


Another Way

by TheEwokingDead



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Chair Sex, Cockpit Sex, Conflicted Din, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Din Djarin Removes the Helmet, Doggy Style, Edging, F/M, Heart-to-Heart, Injured Din, Masturbation, My First AO3 Post, My First Smut, My First Work in This Fandom, Oral Sex, Passion, Sex, Shower Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:41:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 61,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28841799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEwokingDead/pseuds/TheEwokingDead
Summary: Because of his Creed, Din Djarin chooses to die instead of removing his helmet in front of you. Will this brush with death cause him to find another way?
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Comments: 33
Kudos: 262





	1. Ijaat

**Author's Note:**

> Season 2, Episode 3 spoilers: Mention of a character and reference to a conversation they and Mando have.  
> Mention of blood  
> Smut Smutty McSmutsmut about the last 25%.  
> Inspired by Mando/Pedro simps on Tiktok.  
> Inspired by, and a huge shoutout to, Rough Day because holy shit.  
> Favreu forgive me for I know not what I do.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ijaat - _[ee-JAHT]_ \- Devotion
> 
> Din Djarin chooses to die instead of removing his helmet in front of you.

“How many are you going to eat today, kid?” you ask as you stare across at the little green gremlin, who has, for what seems like the tenth time today, a frog’s legs hanging from his mouth. 

“Maker.” You shake your head, half in disgust, half in disbelief that so much can fit in such a tiny body and even smaller stomach. You giggle to yourself, then turn your head and stare out at the swampy lake in front of you. The sun beats on your face while a slight breeze tosses your hair over your shoulders. You close your eyes and relish the moment, wishing someone else besides the kid was with you. 

Mando… 

You wonder how long he’ll be gone this time. You hope not too long because you miss his company and small talk, yet you don’t want it to be too short of a stay. It was no Naboo, but Sorgan was a welcome change from the dark, dank, almost depressing interior of the Razor Crest.

The job Mando was on didn’t seem difficult for a seasoned guild member, but you know it could go either way, really. A quarry who would hide on such a remote planet in the Outer Rim likely wanted to live out his life in peace…or desperately didn’t want to be found. He could put up a difficult fight or none at all, Maker knows.

There are no large settlements or starports on the planet, but there was a Common House nearby that served delicious bone broth and locally made spotchka. Would you have time to walk there and eat before he’d return? The kid probably wasn’t hungry, but you could eat, and you, unlike the kid, weren’t interested in catching your own meal. 

“What do you think? Should we stay here and wait for your dad or go for a walk?” The kid finishes his current snack before cocking his head and making a tiny squeak. You look from him to a frog hopping nearby, prompting you to add, “Maybe we should go before you become responsible for the extinction of an entire species.”

You smile as you reach down and pick up the child. You turn to place him in his hover pram, but before you can do so you hear an explosion, causing you to jolt and turn toward the sound. Instantly, you see a puff of black smoke rising from the evergreen trees. You estimate that it’s a few hundreds of yards away. This planet is peaceful, and as far as you know the closest village is in the opposite direction. Something isn’t right.

“C’mon, kid,” you say as you quickly place the child into the hover pram. “I’m sure your dad is fine, but we should check it out. Just in case.” You close the pram to keep the child safe, feel at your hip to ensure that your blaster is still there, and head off into the forest. 

You’re careful not to trip on any fallen branches or other vegetation on the forest floor, but move hastily in case Mando, or anyone for that matter, is in trouble. Your heart beats rapidly in your chest as you question if going into the forest alone toward an explosion is the right choice. What if it isn’t Mando? What if you get yourself into trouble? Maker knows what Mando would do if the child got hurt because of your carelessness.

After several minutes, you come across a large black spot on the ground, marking where the explosion occurred. There is burnt-out brush and a fallen tree trunk that is smoldering nearby. Any flames left appear low and controlled. Plus, the forest is wet and swampy, so a fire spreading is none of your concern.

You examine the area, your hand at the blaster on your hip in case you need to draw fire. At first, you see no one, nothing else amiss. You relax yourself a bit as you realize that there is no apparent threat. But what in the world could have caused this?

Just as you allow your arm to fall to your side, removing your hand from your weapon, you hear your name coming from a familiar, modulated voice. You whip around and, hidden behind a bush, you see Mando laying on the ground, propped against the trunk of a tree. 

“Mando!” you exclaim, running to him and falling to your knees at his side. “What happened? Are you injured?” You frantically look over but can see nothing below his dirty armor, covered in mud and blood and Maker knows what else.

“The quarry,” he responds simply, the modulator unable to mask that he’s wincing in pain.

“Where is he?”

“That’s all that’s left of him.” Mando gestures to the black spot in the middle of the trees where there’s literally nothing but the burnt forest floor. “Guess he decided there are worse things than death.” He chuckles lowly.

You try to wrap your head around what he was saying - that the quarry killed himself with a detonator so he couldn’t be taken in - but you can’t process it. You don’t care to process it completely. What happened to the quarry is suddenly the least of your worries. 

“Are you injured?” you repeat, realizing he never answered the question. 

“My head,” he responds bluntly. 

“Let me see.” 

You reach out as if you’re going to lift his helmet without question, but Mando instantly grabs your wrists and says, “No.”

You stare into the “T” of his helmet, questioning whether he is serious. He lets go and you sternly say, “Mando, I have to see. I can’t help you if I don’t know what I’m working with.”

“The helmet stays on.” You could tell by his tone, even altered by the device in his helmet, that he was serious.

You scowl at him, wondering if it’s even worth arguing. You quickly give up trying, thinking maybe it wasn’t that back. Likely just a ringer if the shock of the explosion sent him flying. Surely, the Beskar would protect him. What is the point of wearing a helmet if not?

“Are you bleeding?” you ask. Before he can answer you place a hand on the back of his neck, reaching as high as the helmet will allow. You can feel his body trembling, shivering as if he was cold, which wasn’t possible on this sunny, spring-like day. You immediately feel something warm and wet touch your hands. You pull your hand out and into view, instantly seeing it covered in a familiar crimson fluid.

“You’re bleeding. Let me see how badly.”

You pull him forward a little bit, pulling him away from the tree. You look at his back, seeing blood run steadily from his helmet and down his back. You wonder how he’s even conscious and realize there may be more gravity to the situation than originally appeared. You try to remain calm, for his sake, for your sake, for the sake of the child watching from the pram a few feet away.

“Damn,” you swear, remembering you had spent the afternoon relaxing near the lake, not at all prepared to act as a medic. “I don’t have the bacta pump on me.”

“It wouldn’t be enough.”

“It would’ve been enough to get you to the ship. There’s bacta spray there. I’ll just run for that.” You go to stand, but he again reaches out and grabs your wrist to stop you, pulling you back to the ground beside him.

“No. The ship’s too far. You’ll never make it back in time.”

Too far? It was only a fifteen-minute walk one way, tops. Quicker if you ran. You glare at him, knowing there was no time to waste. Half-jokingly you say, “I’ll carry you there if I have to.”

He lets out a gruff chuckle. “The Beskar alone weighs too much.”

You know he’s right, that it was an empty suggestion. You were strong, but not strong enough to carry a full-grown man, with or without armor. You weren’t thinking. You didn’t have time to think. 

“I’ll find help.” As soon as you say it, you know that he knows that the nearest fishing village is just as far as the ship, and anyone there wouldn’t have the medical knowledge to help. Even if you did find help, you know he wouldn’t allow it. The damn helmet. Why wouldn’t he take it off, if only for a moment, just enough time to stabilize whatever wound was there?

You don’t even leave him enough time to argue before you say, “Look, we don’t have time for this. Let me see if there’s anything I can do to stop the bleeding so I can run to the ship. I’m sure whatever is going on in there looks worse than it actually is.” 

“Go,” he commands curtly. “Take the kid. Keep him safe. Find the Jedi. Find Ashoka Tano.”

“Just let me go to the ship for the spray. I can make it.” You sound confident, but who are you trying to convince? 

“I won’t make it,” Mando responds harshly. “Just go. Protect the child.”

You stop. What does he mean he won’t make it? You laugh it off. “This is bantha shit, Mando. Let me remove the helmet and look and your wound. I can slow if not stop the bleeding.”

“It. Is. Forbidden,” Mando replies in between grunts of pain. 

“What is?” you question, a bit irritated. “Is it that you can’t take your helmet off or you can’t show your face?” Daggers are shooting out of your eyes. He’s being so unreasonable and it's exasperating. “Because I know your helmet can come off. You have to eat. You have to wash. So don’t tell me that taking your helmet off is forbidden.” You pause. “If it’s your face that’s the problem, I won’t look. I don’t need to see your face to fix your head. See, look? I’m not looking.” You cover your eyes. “You could be helmetless right now and no one would ever know.”

“Stop playing games and go,” Mando finally speaks, blunt as ever.

Your hands fall from your face and you place them on your hips. “I’m the one playing games?” you question rhetorically, eyebrows raised. “I’m not the one playing with my life over a fucking piece of metal. Now, we’ve wasted enough time.” You rise to your feet. “I’ll go to the ship and get the bacta spray.”

“Just…go,” Mando suddenly sounds breathless and tired. “Leave me…to die.”

You were prepared to run, but hearing the last word causes you to pause. Until that moment, you were in denial. You thought he was overreacting, being overly dramatic at a slight ringer. His Beskar is invincible. He is invincible. 

“You’re not dying today, Mando.” The words weren’t for him, but for you. It was one last attempt to ignore the situation. “You-you can’t.” Your face softens, any frustration left in you dissipating. You slowly fall back to your knees at his side. You gaze into his “T,” trying to come to terms with the fact that he may die and there was nothing you could do. Nothing he would allow you to do.

The dam that was holding back your tears breaks, allowing them to fall down your cheeks. He doesn’t say a word as you wonder why he is so adamantly refusing help. You grab a gloved hand and assure him in a whisper, “There is no way in Malachor I’m leaving you to die.”

You listen to his deep, slowed breathing and quiet moans of pain. Finally, he says, “Can I-Can I feel you?”

You’re perplexed by this request at first. You furrow your brows and look at the hand in yours. Carefully, you remove the glove, feeling his hand and what warmth is left in it. His skin is smoother than you expected it. You pull him up to your tear-stained face, letting him feel your skin with his naked hand for the first time. For a moment, you wish things were completely different, that another situation had led to his naked skin touching yours.

“Mando…” you start to beg.

“Don’t.” 

“Mando, please,” you continue. “Do it for the kid. He needs you.” You caress his hand as you push it harder against your cheek. “I need you.”

You pause, waiting for a response. A reaction. Anything. His breathing seems shallower. 

“Come here,” you whisper as you pull Mando close to you. You gently lay his head on your lap. You feel the heat of his blood as it drips out of his helmet and onto your leg. You hold him there, one hand cradling his head, the other holding his ungloved hand. If he’s so adamant about dying, you won’t let him do it alone.

As you sit there, silently weeping, holding Mando in your lap, a rustling noise causes you look up to see the child as he stands beside you both. You had completely forgotten that you’d brought him with you, that he was witnessing all of this, that he was going to watch his surrogate father die. “I’m sorry, kiddo,” you whisper tearily. “There’s nothing I can do.”

The child cocks his head to the side, observing Mando’s armored faced. He doesn’t appear sad, but curious. Determined. He waddles closer to Mando, reaches out a hand, and closes his eyes. You watch, wondering if this was his way of saying goodbye. The child’s body begins shaking, which puzzles you. Several moments pass before you notice that, as if suddenly, blood is no longer dripping onto you. You just feel the wetness of the blood that had already fallen, nothing fresh. 

You weep in confusion. Finally, the child pulls his arm back and collapses to the forest floor, eyes peacefully shut. He is…asleep? You stare at him, perplexed. What in Malachor is happening?

You hear your name through the modulator and look down at Mando, laying in your lap, his breathing stronger and more regular. He is no longer making any groans in pain. The hand in your hand is growing warm. You’re more confused. You move one hand from the back of his helmet down to his neck and try to reach inside, straining to feel for fresh blood. All you feel is his wet, matted hair and blood that was already beginning to dry. You try to put the pieces together in your head, try to understand what you’d just witnessed. You had seen the kid do some extraordinary things, but this…Was this even possible?

“He…He can heal?” you question. It sounds even more ridiculous to you when said aloud. “Are you…are you okay? Can you sit up?”

Mando is already trying to sit himself up before you can help. As you realize this, you tighten the grip on his hand and offer support, afraid he didn’t have enough strength. He sits with his back propped against the tree, just as you had found him. “I’m okay,” he assures you as he lets go of you.

You stand and step back, staring down at him. You’re trying to process everything that just happened. Your mind is absolutely racing. A million emotions flood you. You’re confused. You’re relieved. You’re angry. You’re hurt. He was going to die for his Creed. An honorable thing, typically, but he was willing to die instead of doing something as simple as removing his helmet and letting you help. Your pleas were meaningless to him.

“Can you walk? Do you think you can make it back to the ship?” you question, trying not to let any emotion shine through. 

“Yes, I think I’ll be fine,” Mando responds, sounding confused. “I-I just need a minute.”

You don’t know why, but the answer angers you. You shouldn’t be upset with someone who was moments away from death, and you can’t really pinpoint what exactly has made you so upset, but you are.

“Good,” you say. Your voice is cold. You bend down and pick up the sleeping savior. You gently place him into the pram floating nearby. As you do this, you add, “Take your time. Walk back to the ship when you’re ready. Clean yourself up. I’ll prepare the ship and get the journey to our next destination started.” You don’t look at him as you say this, trying hard to fight back tears. 

You begin to walk in the direction of the ship, the pram holding the snoring child following behind you. Mando calls your name. You don’t stop. You don’t look back. Instead, you hold up your hand and say, “I have spoken, Mando.”

\---

You wait until sealing yourself in the cockpit before absolutely breaking down, afraid that Mando followed immediately behind you and the kid. You didn’t want him to see. You didn’t want him questioning the tears, the sadness, the anger. If you saw him, you’d probably break your fist trying to hit him. You wanted to strangle him. He didn’t care, you thought. He didn’t care enough to let you save him. It was so stupid to feel that way, it was irritational, you know, but you couldn’t help it.

You question whether you had completely misinterpreted everything between you two. You had only been flying with Mando for a few months, but despite such a short amount of time, it seemed apparent that you two had gotten close. At first, he was short. Distant. Aloof with you even. He was annoyed by your questions, your small talk, your feeble attempts to make him smile under that chunk of metal. 

But as time went by, he appeared to warm up to you. He would use more and more words when responding to you, would even engage in some playful banter. You’d heard his deep chuckles more than anyone else, even the kid, you were certain. You no longer seemed in the way when he navigated the crooks of the Crest, and sometimes you wondered if he intentionally came across you in tight spaces so he’d have a reason to slide his hand across your back as he inched past you. He even offered his bed to you so you wouldn’t always have to sleep in the uncomfortable passenger chair of the cockpit. Not to mention the time or two he saved your ass when you accompanied him on a mission and got yourself into some trouble. 

You thought he had come to care for you. Maybe even caught feelings for you as you had done for him. Maybe you were overanalyzing things, as you tend to do. Maybe he only cared about you because you cared for his kid. Perhaps your ridiculous infatuation with storybooks as a child had gone to your head and you were seeing things that were never there.

You feel so stupid. How could you come to love a man you barely even know? You didn’t know who he was, where he came from, not even his name. You didn’t even fully understand his Creed. Much of your conversations were always about you, the kid, or your mission. He knew so much about you, and yet still didn’t seem to care about you as much as you did him.

You sit in the pilot’s chair of the Razor Crest, staring out into the vast darkness of space in front of you while listening to the silence that filled the room. You are numb. You don’t know how much time has passed since you embarked on the journey to the next destination. An hour? Two at the most. 

Your tears had stopped spilling when you heard Mando embark on the ship, some short time after you and the kid, who was still silently sleeping below. Mando is still below as well, maybe obeying your order to clean up. Hopefully avoiding you. You don’t know. You don’t care. But the ship never felt smaller and you know you can’t avoid each other for long.

Then you hear it. The sound of the cockpit door sliding open. You close your eyes and pray to the Maker that he was just coming to relieve you, to dismiss you, not to talk. There was nothing to talk about. There was nothing to discuss. You had absolutely nothing to say.

Despite it being masked by the modulator, you can almost hear a hint of pleading in his voice when he speaks your name, as if he’s begging to talk to you. You take a deep breath and open your eyes. 

“The kid?” you ask, trying to steer away from heavy conversation. “Is he still asleep?”

Mando responds with a simple, “Yes.”

“Do you want to take over or do you need rest?” you ask, continuing to stare out the window in front of you, completely motionless.

“We should talk.”

Shit. Your heart pounds against your chest. You don’t want to do this. Not now. Not ever. 

You’re afraid it may lead to pouring your entire heart out to him, only to be rejected.

“I don’t think there’s anything we need to discuss.” You’re still curt.

“I think there is,” Mando responds. “I want you to understand-”

“No, Mando,” you cut him off, speaking matter-of-factly. You spin the chair around to face him. “There’s nothing to understand.”

“Nothing?” he questions. He is standing in the doorway, sans armor, wearing only the garments he usually wears underneath the armor and, of course, his helmet. His clothes appear clean, likely indicating he had been to the fresher and cleaned himself up, as instructed. Seeing him like this causes you to pause. He didn’t often come around you without his Beskar. He had been a bit more lax about things lately, likely allowing you to be near him as he carefully lifted his helmet just enough to eat or seeing him without bits and pieces of armor that needed cleaned, but you’ve never seem him this exposed.

“No,” you say after several moments. “Because I think I understand everything perfectly clear.” You rise to your feet. “I understand that you were willing to die today. For no reason. I could’ve saved you, I could’ve at least tried, but you chose to die. You would rather die than show me your face.”

“My Creed-”

“Is bantha shit, Mando.” You glare at him. “Any Creed that tells you to just roll over and die is absolute fucking bantha shit. If the kid hadn’t saved you-” You stop yourself, feeling tears well up in your eyes again. “If the kid hadn’t saved you, you would be dead right now.”

“But I’m not,” he gently reminds you.

“You were knocking on Maker’s door, Mando,” you snap. “And why? Because of a piece of armor? It’s not like it’s fused to your head.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Help me understand then,” you plead angrily. “Is there even an answer to the question I asked you before? Can you not remove your helmet or not reveal your face? Because there’s a difference. Help me understand.”

Mando is silent. His body language tells you that he doesn’t have an answer.

“If it’s a question of your identity, you can trust me.”

“It’s not about trust.”

Ignoring him, you assure him, “Anything you tell me, anything you show me, is safe with me. I mean, what do you think I would do? Go planet to planet screaming your description? Tell the galaxy I saw your face?” He doesn’t answer. “Who would even care?” You stop before continuing. “How many people even follow your ancient as all fuck code?”

The question seems to sting him, as if he knew the answer and didn’t want to admit that there were very few followers of his Creed left.

“I-I would have never left that skug hole of a planet if it meant keeping you alive, protecting your identity,” you confess. You have no idea why you say this, but you continue to spill your guts. “We could have stayed there, lived a simpler life. No worrying about your helmet or anyone discovering that I ever saw your face, even just the one time. All that would have mattered is you were with me.” You pause before adding, trying to recover, “The kid too, of course.”

Mando seems taken aback. His body language says that he is uncomfortable. He walks past you, to the front of the cockpit, standing near the captain’s chair and looking forward out the glass. 

Your gaze follows him and you stand here waiting, but he is silent for several moments.

Finally, you watch his body shift as he takes a deep, heavy breath. He exhales slowly. “What if you’re right?” He turns to see you. “What if Bo-Katan is right?”

You ruffle your brows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I was rescued by Mandalorians, by The Watch, as a foundling. Treated as their own. Sworn to their Creed. I was taught that their way is the way. The only way.” He pauses, as if trying to piece his thoughts together while speaking. He turns and looks back out the window, his hands on his chair. “What if it’s not the only way? What if I was raised by the religious zealots Bo-Katan believes them to be?”

Your eyes soften as you look toward him. Is he-is he really opening to you? He had been acting strange since meeting Bo-Katan and her allies, since she revealed that she was born on Mandalore with armor passed down three generations. That he had been raised by a cult. Had that information truly left him conflicted? Did it cause him to question his Creed, his life? It made sense. It must have been why he had turned quieter than usual, why he suddenly seemed cold and distant and wanted to be alone.

You suddenly feel any anger left in you slip away. You realize how incredibly lonely he must be, to be one of the few Mandalorians left to follow such strange, stringent rules. “Mando, I…” you start, not knowing what to say. You shift your thoughts. “Do you believe her?”

“Should I?” he turns and looks at you, indicating that he really wanted to know what you had to say. 

“I-I don’t…Why should my opinion matter?” you question. You know so little about Mandalore, the Mandalorians, their Creed, their history beyond what Bo-Katan and Mando has told you. You know he had been saved and raised in their religion, as he had just repeated, but little of the people who raised him or their motive. To ask for your thoughts felt bizarre.

“Because I trust your opinion.”

To hear him admit that leaves you stunned. You take a deep breath and respond in a serious tone, “You have everyone reason to owe your life to The Watch for saving you, but I worry they used that to their advantage. To brainwash you. Like Bo-Katan said.” You step closer to him, feeling the distance between you two makes things feel impersonal. “You were only a child. Ignorant. Vulnerable. Easy to mold to their way. Maybe they knew you wouldn’t question them or their beliefs.”

Mando turns his back to you once more. You can tell that it was something he didn’t want to hear but needed to. You take another step and lay a hand on one of his shoulders. You can feel the warmth of his body through his shirt. Any other moment, it would’ve sent tingles down your body. But now is not the time to be thinking of such things.

“I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with this,” you tell him in a soft voice, “but you don’t have to deal with it alone.” Several seconds pass by before you add. “I’ll always be here for you.”

You take your hand off Mando’s shoulder, waiting for him to respond. You don’t expect him to immediately. His world had been shattered recently, and you only stepped on the pieces further. It couldn’t be easy to process.

His posture changes. He straightens himself and turns toward you. “What you said on Sorgan. That you need me. Did you mean it?” 

You’re taken aback by the question. “Of-of course I did,” you squeak. You’re nervous, wondering why he would ask such a thing, but you don’t break your gaze into his helmet. 

Mando steps as close as he can to you. You’re uncomfortable, not because you don’t want him there – Maker knows you love when he’s close to your body, even when it’s not on purpose – but you were unaware of where this was leading.

“How did you mean it?” 

You swallow hard and look at your feet. You’re dealing with an expert negotiator, and you knew there was no way you were getting out of this without revealing your feelings in some way, shape, or form. Water wells in your eyes.

He speaks your name, causing you to look up at him. You know he can see the tears in your eyes; he isn’t blind.

“How did you mean it?” he repeats.

“I think you know.” You pray that he doesn’t make you say it, doesn’t make you pour your heart out right then and there.

“Yes, I do,” he responds, making you close your eyes and breath in deeply as you turn your head away. “But I want to hear you say it.”

You look at him again, through wet eyes. “What do you want to hear? What do you want me to say?” you question. “That I’ve fallen for a man whose name I don’t even know?” You shake your head and laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “That would make me the dimmest star in the entire galaxy, wouldn’t it?”

“Say it.” Mando’s voice is calm.

You shake your head. Why was he making you do this?

“Say it,” his tone is more commanding this time.

“I love you,” you whisper, the tension finally breaking. You turn and step away, putting your head in one of your hands. “Dank Farrik,” you mutter under your breath before inhaling deeply. You turn to look at him, staring at him from across the room, tears streaming down your face. “It’s so damn stupid, but I love you. And when I say that I’m here for you, that I would never leave you, I mean it. I-I’d do anything for you. I may not be as strong as you or wear a suit of Beskar, but I would go to Malachor and back for you.”

You may as well be naked because that’s how exposed you feel. “Are you happy now?”

You look away, feeling so utterly embarrassed and vulnerable that you can’t stand to look at him. Your heart is thumping against your chest, feeling as though it may explode. No, no. It couldn’t be your heart causing all that noise and pain because you had clearly just thrown it on the floor of the Razor Crest for him. It laid on his feet, there for him to either stomp on or carefully pick up.

It’s quiet in the room. It feels like minutes, hours, years go by, but it’s mere seconds. Finally, you hear his footsteps as he moves toward you. He places a hand on your chin and softly guides you to look at him. You look up at him through wet eyes, wishing you could see the eyes hiding behind the “T.” Briefly, you wonder what would happen had it not been wearing the helmet. Would you kiss him? Would he kiss you? 

He removes his hand after a minute and instructs, “Take it off.” 

His modulated voice causes you to tingle, but you’re shocked by his request. “What?” 

“The helmet,” Mando responds.

You feel stupid for thinking he meant anything else, but you’re confused. It seemed to come from him so suddenly. “Are-are you sure?”

“Yes,” he responds, his voice swiftly seeming desperate. “I want you to do it. Please. Show me another way.” 

You stare back into the “T,” in complete disbelief that this was happening. That you were moments away from solving the mystery of his face. Would he look as you had imagined, as he had come to you so often in your dreams? 

Without questioning him further, you reach your arms up and grasp the cold metal of his helmet. You take a deep breath, wondering if this was the right thing to do. Did he truly want this? And why? Why now? Why like this? Did he…could he possibly share your feelings? Could he want to kiss you as you wanted to do to him?

You push the thoughts aside and lift the helmet from his head. As soon as the helmet is clear of him, you take it in one hand, drop your arm and let the helmet fall to the floor with a clunk. The only thing you care about is him. Seeing him. Your eyes are immediately drawn to his. He has brown eyes. Two beautiful and delicate brown eyes. His brows are furrowed, creating wrinkles at the bridge of his nose that you wish you could kiss away. He must feel so vulnerable at that moment, more so than you, and the thought melts you further.

He breaks your gaze for a moment to look at the helmet on the floor and motions toward it. “You’re lucky that’s Beskar or that would’ve left a dent.” He looks up and gives a small half-smile.

Whether he was trying to make you feel more at ease or himself, you don’t know. But you find yourself returning a small, shy smile. You’re nearly breathless, nervous as to what to say or do next. You have a strong urge to touch him, to feel the stubble on his face or wrap your fingers in the dark hair on his head. But you’re afraid. Afraid you may scare him away, as if he was some wild animal that had never encountered a human before and would scurry away at the slightest movement.

But you can’t stop yourself. It’s too tempting. You slowly raise your arm and move your hand to his face. He flinches the second your fingertips touch him, and you start to withdraw your arm. Your eyes are fixed on his and his on yours. He doesn’t retreat further, so you return to laying your hand on his face. He, as if realizing it’s okay, closes his eyes. He takes a shaky breath, shattering your heart. He is trembling, but you feel his jaw muscles relax as he seems to realize it’s okay. How long had it been since he’d last been touched? Years? Decades?

His eyes remain shut as you feel the stubble on his face with your palm and caress his cheek with your thumb. His skin is soft and warm, making you feel at ease. 

“Mando?”

He opens his eyes. They’re glistening. How have you not melted to the floor yet?

“Din,” he says softly. 

Is that…his name? You start to remove your hand from your face in disbelief, but he quickly reaches up and grabs your wrist, pulling your hand back to his face. “No, don’t. Please.” He doesn’t remove his hand from your wrist. Instead, he leaves it there for a few seconds, before guiding your hand down to his lips, where he kisses your fingertips. His lips are just the right amount of plumpness and softness.

Din lets go of your hand, but you don’t retract it. Instead, you return it to his cheek. Your breathing is quick and deep as you feel a hotness spread throughout your body, all the blood pulling to the area between your legs. You pull yourself in and plant a single, slow kiss on his lips before pulling back to see his reaction. You almost regret breaking away, as his lips were so warm and welcoming you wanted to stay forever. 

The two of you gaze into each other’s eyes, as if neither one of you know what to do next, not necessarily out of inexperience but because you’re afraid of hurting the other, of taking it too far. Is that what he wanted? 

Before you can even think to do or say anything else, Din reaches out and simultaneously puts his hand on the back of your head and another on your waist. He pulls you into him and starts kissing you deeply, passionately. He guides you, lips still locked, pushes you against the wall of the cockpit, kissing you with a fieriness you’ve never been kissed with before. His hand moves to your neck as you both use your tongues, his massaging yours before they twist together. His touch on your skin gives you goosebumps.

Din unlocks his lips and moves his kisses to your throat. He quickly kisses up your neck until he gets to your ear, where he nips your lobe. “I want you,” he breathes. “All of you.”

“Then take me.” 

As much as you want him to fuck you right then and there, pushed against the wall tightly, you’re still clothed. Din pushes himself off you, his eyes locked with yours. He lifts his shirt as you fumble with your own garments. Once you both are topless, you lock lips again, unable to stay away from each other for long. He pushes you against the wall again, your back touching the cold metal, his body grazing your naked breasts. You wrap your arms around him, feeling his thick brown locks with one hand while touching his back with the other. His hands are against the wall on either side of you, making you incapable of escaping, as if you wanted to. 

You stay like this, kissing deeply for several moments, before unwrapping your arms and moving them to his chest. He stops kissing you and lays his forehead against yours as you rapidly trace his body with your hands, feeling his skin with your fingertips. You start at his chest, down to his abs, then to his belly button before finally following a small trail of hair straight to the waist of his pants. You stick a couple fingers into the waistline of his pant and trace straight across, slowly moving back and forth. He lifts his head in the air and quietly moans at the teasing. You look up at him as he closes his eyes and bites his lower lip. This convinces you to put a hand into the front of his pants, in search of his cock. You immediately find it and cup it with your hand, feeling its warmth and the long, thick hairs surrounding it. He is throbbing. 

Din lowers his head onto your shoulder, obviously approving of the touch. You slowly move from cupping his cock to holding it, your grasp the perfect amount of tightness around him. You activate your wrist muscles, moving your hand up and down the shaft of his cock. At the tip, you slow and rub it with your palm, the circle it with a fingertip, teasing him. He is wet there, which sends a jolt of electricity through you. His breathing turns to pants, his breath warm on your shoulder. Without warning, he gently bites you, trying to contain his moans. His hand grabs at your still-clothed ass, squeezing it. You let out a slight groan, not in pain but ecstasy at the thought of him fighting the urge to cum for you. 

You don’t allow it. That isn’t how you want it. You want him, just as he wants you. You push him away. He looks at you, almost confused, but he sees you tearing off your pants and underwear and follows suit. You don’t even stop to admire one another before you’re drawn together again, like two opposing magnets left too close to one another. He grabs your face with both of your hands as you kiss, pulling away only long enough for you to gasp at the air. You push him toward one of the passenger seats and push him back into it. He lands with his bare ass on the seat and stares up at you. 

Now, you marvel at him, gazing at his perfectly sculpted body, in complete disbelief that he’d ever hide all of this under all that armor. His shoulders are broad, his torso slender yet muscular. You straddle him on the chair, sitting with your feet on his knees and your body against his cock, feeling it pulse beneath you, as if desperate to get inside of you. You put your lips to his as you grind against him, letting his cock get a feel for what’s about to come. Din moans into your mouth. Your pussy is soaked. You can only imagine what he’s feeling but hope it feels half as good as it feels to glide your clit against his cock.

You raise up on your knees and reach to grab the base of his cock. You slowly lower yourself onto it, feeling the fullness and warmth as it easily glides into your wet grotto. A sense of euphoria rushes over you and sends shivers through your body. It’s not as good as an orgasm, but Maker is it wonderful, as if you’ve inserted the key that unlocks the gateway to pleasure. 

You grab the back of the seat with one hand and rest the other on his leg as he places his on your hips. You gaze into one another’s souls as you slowly begin to ride him, changing direction every now and then to find what feels best for you both. You start with rolling your hips in little circles, then rock your pelvis up and down. Your clit rubs against him and you feel the tension grow inside of you. You throw your head back and moan. “Oh, Maker.”

Din lets out a breathe of air as he lays his forehead on your shoulder. “Fuck, you’re killing me,” he groans through gritted teeth. “Your pussy’s too good.” He kisses the top of your breast as one hand moves up your back, the other down to your ass, which he cups. 

You move your hand from his leg and reach behind and under your ass, looking for his balls. You find them and lightly cup both of his testicles at once. 

“Oh fuck!” Din screams. “You better stop or…you’ll make me cum.”

You pull in close to him so you can whisper in his ear, “I want to make you cum.”

He’s quiet and focused on his deep breaths, his muscles clenched as if he’s fighting the urge to finish. You take it as a challenge and pick up your pace, feeling as if you’re about to explode as well.

“No,” Din suddenly growls. You feel him move to stand from the chair. Instinctively, you cling to him with your legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck. He kisses you before falling to his knees and gently laying you down on the ground of the cockpit. Instead of placing himself back inside of you, his cock having fallen out of you while shifting positions, he begins to kiss your body, as you did with him, beginning at your neck, down your chest, your stomach, your pelvis. You hope he finds your sweet spot next but instead he moves to your thigh as he pushes your legs apart. 

Once your legs are spread, he returns to his original trail, his mouth finding the sweetest of spots right on your clit. You whimper the second he finds it and flicks it with his tongue. He moans, the vibrations sending electricity through your body. You feel a finger slide inside of you. Then a second. He slips them in and out, in and out. He stops only to curl them upward, gliding them along the walls of your pussy in search of another special spot. It isn’t nearly as good as his cock but still breathtaking. You find yourself craving his cock, but you don’t stop him as he is now sucking on your clit, which nearly sends you over the edge. 

“Oh, shit. Oh, fuck,” you pant. He can likely tell you’re close as your pussy tightens around the extremities inside of you. “I-I want you inside of me. Please, Maker, please.”

Din’s head appears from between your legs. He slowly pulls himself back on top of you, sucking your nipple and leaving a kiss on your breast before his face is inches from yours. You feel him put his cock into your pussy, which is gushing after all the teasing. You hear the squishing as he thrusts in and out of you, which drives you wild, causing you to squeeze his cock as you did his fingers. You can feel heat come over you as you near orgasm, feeling as though you’re on fire and could combust without warning.

Din kisses you and you can taste yourself on his lips. After pulling away from your lips, he moves his mouth to your ear. “I’m so fucking close.”

“Don’t stop,” you gasp. You’re nearly there. “Mando, I’m going to cum.” You had called him that for so long and your brain was spinning that the word just slipped out of you, forgetting for a moment that he had revealed his name to you.

“Say my name,” he commands between pants, his cock throbbing inside of you as he keeps momentum. The combination of his breath near your ear and his thrusts is what breaks you.

“Oh, fuck, Din!” you scream, finally reaching the edge and fall off the cliff into a sea of ecstasy. As you squeeze tighter around his cock, your pussy spasming, he screams your name. His jerks become erratic, his thrusts hard and deep. You can feel a warm, wet sensation filling you as your tension – and his – is released.

Din pushes himself off you and rolls onto the ground beside you. You’re gasping for air, trying to catch your breath. It feels as though there are thousands of tiny effervescent bubbles gliding slowly across your body. It’s the only thing you can focus on. You can’t think. You can’t move. You just…breathe.

Finally, after regaining control of your body, you turn your head to look at him. He’s staring at the ceiling, also panting, a look of satisfaction on his face. He turns his head and catches your sight. 

“How’s that for another way?” you ask, a satisfied smile stretching across your face.

He chortles nervously, then stretches out his arm, indicating that he wants you closer to him. You wiggle against him, one of his arms beneath you, and lay a head on his chest. He lays his head on yours and runs his fingers through your hair.

“You’re wrong, you know,” he says at last.

“I’m never wrong,” you say confidently.

“You-you are the brightest star,” he says. 

You lift your head enough to be able to look up at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“What you said earlier,” he says, “about being the dimmest star. You’re wrong. You are the brightest star in the entire galaxy.”

You inhale, almost forgetting to exhale. 

He continues, “And I want to stay under your warmth…forever.”

Your smile widens as tears well in your eyes. You nuzzle your face into his chest as he wraps his arm around you tighter. He lays his chin on your head and smells the sweet scent in your hair.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” he whispers.

_I love you._


	2. Haa'it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haa'it - _[hah-EET]_ \- Vision
> 
> Following the events on Moff Gideon's cruiser, Din considers a proposal that leaves you hurt and angry. Will you two be able to reconcile?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place immediately after the events of the Season 2 finale, so massive spoiler alert.
> 
> A little bit of angst, fluff, and smut.
> 
> Will we see a sad Din? A flirty Din? A silly Din? A sexy Din? I think so.
> 
> Inspired by hushlittlewolf's "The Sea Like Glass."

“You better inform the princess that she should’ve brought a freighter if she intends to take anything more.”

A small half smile is all you give to Boba in response. The two of you are standing side by side at the bottom of the Lambda shuttle that Bo-Katan and Koska intend to use to fly out of Moff Gideon’s ship. You had just finished helping to load it with spoils she wanted to take with her, weapons and such, likely to aid her in her endeavor to return to Mandalore. Cara had already taken Gideon inside, intending to surrender him to the New Republic in exchange for a lucrative bounty. 

“Tell him we’re headed to Tatooine if he’s coming with us. Help him make up his mind.”

You nod. “Just give me some time.” 

“We haven’t got all day, little one,” Boba scoffs as he walks off toward his ship.

Pursing your lips, you turn and look around the hangar, looking at the emptiness of the large room, save a few empty TIE Fighters. Across the room, you see a figure sitting on the floor, back against the wall. Din. He is still helmetless, as he has been ever since the Jedi came for the kid.

The kid…

He has only been gone for a couple hours but you’re already missing the little green guy. Fiercely. His sweet little mouth and those large ears. How he’d snuggle up in your arms when he was tired. All his antics, like the time he wouldn’t stop eating that poor frog lady’s eggs or how he wouldn’t stop removing the knob on the ship’s lever. You find yourself hoping that there would be an endless number of frogs to keep him satisfied wherever the Jedi was taking him. A growing boy has to eat, after all.

As much as it pains you to think about him, you know it must be killing Din. His silence made it clear. Beyond exchanging a few words with Bo-Katan, who tried to sway him to discuss options regarding retaking Mandalore, he didn’t say much of anything to anyone, not even to you. 

But the silence needed to be broken. It was time to come to some sort of decision. There were two ships leaving the light cruiser: one flown by Bo-Katan, who would be taking Cara to meet with the New Republic and hand of Moff Gideon. She made it clear that she was eager to move forward with her plans with Mandalore, preferably with Din’s help since he now wielded the Darksaber. The other ship, of course, belongs to Boba, who plans to travel to Tatooine for Maker knows what reason, but could likely taxi you wherever you and Din want to go.

Honestly, you have no idea what’s going to happen next, what you are going to do or even where you are going to go. Wherever Din wants to go, you suppose. As far as you know, you are out of a job. The child is gone, the ship is gone. You have no one and nothing to take care of anymore beyond Din. He loves you, that he made clear about two weeks earlier, after the first time you consummated your relationship. He reminded you numerous times in the days after, but ever since Tython, when Gideon’s Dark Troopers kidnapped Grogu, your relationship has been put on the back burner. But wherever he goes, you will go.

You take a deep breath, exhaling as you take a step and cautiously carry yourself over to where Din is sitting. You fidget with your fingers as you walk. Your mind is swirling, trying to formulate something to say. Anything. Where do you even begin? 

“Din?” Your voice is soft and gentle. He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even flinch at the sound of someone speaking to him. He is holding something in his fist, something you can barely make out. A small, silver sphere. His eyes are fixated on it as it rolls it around in one hand. After a second, you realize what he’s holding.

“Is that…?” you start to question. Din doesn’t break his gaze from the ball as he opens his fist, letting you get a better view of the knob that the kid was always so obsessed with. You watch as he caresses it with his thumb. 

It hits you that it’s all he has left, not just of Grogu but of the Razor Crest as well. In a matter of days, Din has lost nearly everything. His ship, his kid, his Creed. The only things left are the weapons and armor on his body. And you, of course. You can only begin to imagine what’s going through his mind.

Slowly, you drop to your knees beside him. Gently, you place a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll be fine,” you assure him. “The kid’s strong.”

He still doesn’t respond.

“Are you okay?”

Din carefully places the ball in his pocket, picks up his gloves sitting beside him, and rises to his feet, letting your hand fall off him as he stands. “I’ll be fine,” he says gruffly as he puts a glove back on his hand. As he stands there, his body is slouched, shoulders slumped. He’s not carrying himself as he usually does.

You stand. “Are you sure? Because you don’t seem like someone who’s fine.”

“Yes.” You watch as he puts on his second glove, him acting as though he’s ignoring you. 

“Din. Talk to me. Please.” 

“What do you expect me to say?” he asks, picking up his Beskar spear and sliding it on his back.

“Whatever’s on your mind.” 

“Nothing is on my mind,” he responds evenly as he picks up his helmet.

“Bantha shit!” you exclaim, causing him to stop before he can put his helmet on. “You’re going to tell me that the kid isn’t on your mind? Or the fact that you removed your helmet for someone other than me? Or, I don’t know, that thing?” You gesture to the Darksaber hanging from his belt. 

“Dank Farrik. I don’t have time for this right now.” His voice sounds annoyed. “What do you want me to tell you?” 

You try to be firm, wanting an answer. “Tell me what you’re going to do. Boba and Bo-Katan are both waiting. Where are you going to go? You have to decide now.”

No response. His jaw is clenched.

“Din,” you reach out and grab his wrist. “At least look at me.”

Finally, Din turns and looks at you. The first thing you notice is his eyes, droopy, wet, and bloodshot. The corners of his lips are just slightly pulled down, but it’s obvious enough that he’s grief-stricken. “What should I do?”

You soften again as you release your grip on his wrist. You fold your arms and hug them against your chest. “I-I don’t know.”

“No, I didn’t think you would.” He sighs as he looks down at the helmet in his hands, as if considering whether to put it on or not. He drops his arm, helmet in hand, to his side for now.

Your mind is racing, searching for something to say. An idea. A resolution. Anything. “Run away with me,” you finally blurt out. The sentence surprises you as much as it does him.

Din looks at you, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Run away with me,” you repeat, trying to sound surer of yourself this time. “Let Bo-Katan believe you to be dead. Leave the Darksaber somewhere for her to find. Let her rule the Mandalorians. Then we can go anywhere. Naboo. Sorgan. Takodana. Fuck, we can go to Malachor for all I care.” You take a step toward him, focused solely on him. “We can start new lives. Be whoever we want to be. It doesn’t matter to me as long as we’re together.”

The look on Din’s face makes it seem as though he’s considering it, if only for a moment. He sighs before looking down. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It could be,” you assure him, laying a hand on his arm. “Our lives could be so simple from here on out.”

“No,” he responds curtly, ignoring the hand on him. He has finally decided to put on his helmet, placing it carefully on his head. His modulated voice returns. “It’s not going to be that easy.”

“Then fight Bo-Katan and let her win the Darksaber fair and square,” you suggest. “Don’t hold back and pray she can disarm you before she kills you.”

“And if I win?” Din questions.

“Then maybe you’re meant to rule Mandalore after all,” you reply sharply. “Just because she wants it more doesn’t mean she deserves it more. You are more than deserving.”

“I won’t fight her,” Din declares.

You throw your arms up in the air. “Maker, Din. What do you propose then?” you demand angrily.

Din takes a deep breath as he turns away and puts his hands on his hips. He’s silent for a moment, his head low. “What if there’s another way for Bo-Katan to get what she wants? What if she could rule with me?” 

You’re confused. You have an idea of what he could be saying, but maybe you’re misinterpreting. “What do you mean?” He doesn’t immediately respond. “Like as your advisor? Because that makes sense.”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Then what are you saying?” you question. “Din? What are you saying?”

Slowly, Din turns and looks at you. “I’m saying that I could marry her.”

You furrow your brows and cock your head. Did you hear him correctly? “Marry her?” you scoff. You nearly laugh at the absurdity of the suggestion. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?”

“How do you not think it is?”

“She wants the power but doesn’t have the Darksaber. I have the Darksaber but don’t want to power. I could be the face that everyone follows, but she would be the one calling all the shots.”

“I get that. I support that. One hundred percent. The thing that makes zero fucking sense is the marriage part, Din. I mean, let me get this straight,” you say, trying to piece everything together. You gently massage your temples before continuing. “You have a weapon that she needs in order to unite the Mandalorians. You want nothing to do with the saber. She, however, wants the saber but cannot, in good conscience, just take it from you because she has to win it in battle. You won’t fight her. So you’re solution is to…what? Marry someone you barely even know in hopes that people will listen to and follow the woman married to the guy with the Darksaber? Because obviously that’s the option that makes the most sense. Much more sense than just offering her a position of power. I mean, are you planning to repopulate the whole damn planet yourself or something?”

“She wants the throne,” he says simply. “Marriage can give her the throne.”

“And when exactly did she say that?” you ask. “She said she wants to seat a new Mandalorian on the throne. Never once did she say that Mandalorian was her. Perhaps she doesn’t want to rule. Maybe she just wants to reunite her people and see them living on the planet where she was born. Do you even know her well enough to know what exactly she wants?”

“She claims her sister was Duchess.”

“Okay, and? I know I’m not the one who should be educating you about Mandalore and its history, but it sounds like the throne is non-hereditary. Blood doesn’t matter. What matters is who the people seem worthy. Am I not right?”

Silence.

“If the people deem you worthy, which yeah, you’re more than worthy, then it doesn’t matter what Bo-Katan thinks,” you continue. “If you’re just trying to get in her good graces and want her support, fuck, Din, you don’t jump straight to marriage. Offer her the highest role on your council, whatever that may be. But your wife?” You laugh angrily, seeming almost crazy. “Fuck, Din, if you so badly don’t want the weapon, don’t want to rule, there are options here,” you say. “Fight her. Let her win the Darksaber. Support her and her story. It’s an easy solution. I don’t understand why you’re so adamantly against it. Or maybe… Maybe just suck it up and accept that you can rule. Or, hey, here’s an idea, don’t make any rash decisions before even knowing if anyone can reunite the people and if the planet is inhabitable. Fucking Malachor, Din, if you didn’t just have your helmet off, I would think you’re all metal and no brains.”

“Look, it’s just an option I was weighing, okay?” he replies angrily, his shoulders straightened, coming to full height. “You asked what’s on my mind, I told you what’s on my mind. It’s not my fault you don’t like the answer.”

You are stunned as you take a step back. “Are you too oblivious to even understand why I’m upset?” you question, your voice cracking as you speak. “Why I can’t stand the thought of you even considering marrying another person? Even if it’s just a marriage of convenience?” 

You give him a moment to respond, but he doesn’t say anything. You quickly flick away a tear falling from your eye, hoping he doesn’t notice you holding back tears. Your throat is burning, your chest tight as your heart pounds against it. “Where am I in the grand scheme of things? Huh? Am I to return home, to Tatooine, and pretend as though nothing ever happened between the two of us? That that night after Sorgan didn’t even happen? Because if not, that means you expect me to follow you to Mandalore with her as your wife.” You take a step close to him and stare intensely into the “T” of his helmet, your eyes narrow, shooting daggers at him. “I will not follow you just to be your whore.”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment before you turn to walk away. Din calls your name, trying to stop you. “Wait,” he says as he grabs your arm. You whip around and raise your arm as if to slap him, but he’s too quick. He grabs it to stop you. 

You immediately tear your arms away from him. “Go fuck yourself.” You turn and walk away. As you march toward the ramp of Slave I, you feel tears as they fall from your eyes. You quickly wipe them away, not daring to shed anything more for someone who could be so damn stupid.

\--

You watch from the window of the ship as Din staggers across the hanger. To your dismay, he heads in the direction of Bo-Katan’s borrowed Lambda shuttle. Externally, you try to contain your composure in case Boba or Fennec enters the room. Internally, you crumble to pieces. 

A small part of you hopes Din will choose to come along, that maybe you had talked some sense into him. For someone who was intelligent enough to hunt down some of the galaxy’s most dangerous targets, someone who could know what a target was going to do before the target even knew, he sure is terrible at using his brain when it comes to social situations. Or maybe he just doesn’t understand women, you don’t know. 

What was he thinking? He couldn’t have meant any of it…could he? No, he couldn’t have. He obviously must be confused. Lost. Tired. The last few weeks, ever since you both had first met Bo-Katan and the other Mandalorians, had been such a whirlwind. You know he’s doubting his Creed, his loyalty to a group that brainwashed him. You know his entire world has been shifted. Now his future is uncertain. You desperately want to give him the benefit of the doubt.

After sitting in silence for several minutes, you hear someone walking up the ramp and moving towards the room, causing your heart to leap. To your disappointment, it’s only Fennec. She takes a seat but doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t even ask about Din. Had she seen you two arguing? Had she heard?

No, she just didn’t care, likely. It’s not like Din was expected and he had already boarded the Lambda shuttled, it seemed. He had no reason to travel with you or even them anymore but had all the reasons to go with Bo-Katan. Whether he liked it or not, he was the new owner of the much coveted Darksaber, and therefore had a legitimate claim to the throne. Don’t get your hopes up. 

Moments later, you hear another pair of footsteps. This time you don’t look up to watch whoever it is enter the room. Your heart can’t take it. Your body is slumped in your chair, arms square against your chest, eyes on the floor. You watch as a familiar pair of boots walk past you and take a seat across the cabin. You look up and see Din. He doesn’t look in your direction and you quickly look away before he can feel your gaze. You had no reason to speak with him, and you especially don’t want to do it with others within earshot.

“Ready for takeoff,” Boba’s voice comes from the com system.

Fennec reaches for the com to respond. “Copy. Ready.”

You fold your arms across your chest and look out the window, watching and listening as Boba fires the ship. The gyro system the deck is situation on begins to shift as the ship lifts from the ground. You know it’ll be at least a couple hours before you land. The lull of entering space makes your eyelids feel heavy, heavier than you’ve ever felt them before. You don’t even fight the urge to sleep, choosing it over the awkward silence of sitting in such a confined space with Din and Fennec. Maybe rest would help you think more clearly. As you drift off you sleep, you hope the same for Din.

\--

You stir at the sound of familiar voices whispering nearby. Your eyes slowly open and you blink several times, trying to recognize your surroundings. You remember falling asleep as Slave I flew away from Moff Gideon’s ship, Fennec and Din sitting in the cabin with you. Now, it seems Boba, at some point, had come from the cockpit, allowing the ship to hurdle itself through space. The three are standing together, murmuring – whether in secrecy or trying not to wake you, you don’t know. How long have you been out of it? A few minutes? An hour? You’re unsure.

“Glad you could join us, little one,” you hear Boba’s voice say as he notices you stirring.

“How-how long have I been asleep?” you question, fixing your slumped posture.

“The entire trip,” Fennec responds, smirking. “We’re nearly there.”

“What? You should’ve woken me sooner.”

“Din says you haven’t slept much since Tython,” Fennec says, nodding in his direction. You look at him, but he’s staring down and away, hands on his hips, obviously avoiding your gaze. “And there was no reason to disturb you. To be honest, I could’ve used more rest, but boys are always about business.”

Tython. Had it really been that long since you last got a decent night’s rest? That was…you lost count of the days.

“I’ll get us out of hyperdrive and prepare for landing,” Boba says as he moves past Fennec, walking toward the ladder that leads to the cockpit. 

You wonder what you had missed, but you don’t ask. You don’t want to talk to Din. You don’t know if you ever want to talk to Din again. But where will you go if not with Din? Back home? Back to your job at the hangar in Mos Eisley?

There’s so much uncertainty. You decide that the only thing you can do is take things one step at a time. Land first, figure shit out as you go. 

Fortunately, Boba landed somewhere other than Hangar 3-5. You know Peli would ask about the kid and the ship, and one of the last things you want to do right now is recount everything to her. Maker forbid everything between you and Din slips out as well. You know you’ll have to talk to her eventually, probably as you beg for your old job back, but right now is not the time. The wounds are too fresh.

After landing, you quickly disembark the ship without a word. You don’t have a reason to talk to anyone, especially Din. As you exit the hangar, your feet carrying you along the sand of the desert planet, you notice the twin suns are high in the sky, signaling that it’s noontime. You’re hungry, but more than anything you could use a drink to release the tension in your muscles. 

Even though it’s hot and arid, you enjoy the air of Tatooine. You find comfort in it. It is home, after all. You walk in between the all too familiar sandstone structures, blending in with the traders and travelers. The incoherent chatter swims in your ears as you make your way through the bustling bazaar, seeing the junked parts of ships and speeders and exposed cooling tubes of rundown shops. You remind yourself that you haven’t bathed or changed clothes in days and that should probably be somewhere high on your priority rest after refueling yourself. For now, you enter cantina at the heart of Mos Eisley. 

You walk up to the bar and, before the barman can even ask, politely order a Tatooine Sunset with a touch of desert pear and flatbread. He nods, puts in your food order with the kitchen, and gets to work on your drink. As you stand at the bar, you look around, double-checking that no one has followed you. It’s relatively empty compared to weekend and evening rushes. You welcome it. You don’t want to socialize, but you also don’t want to be completely alone.

After several minutes, the barman sits a cup filled with ice and an orange liquid in front of you. You quietly thank him, then take a sip. The taste is as good as you remember from your last visit, however long ago that was. Unsweetened tea with a hint of several fruits fermented just right. It’s cool and refreshing as it falls down your throat. You exhale and stare down at the drink in your hand. Unable to help it, your mind drifts to Din. Did he have a plan or was he just as lost as you? Why had he decided not to go with Bo-Katan? Had he reconsidered his ridiculous excuse for a plan?

Your mind doesn’t have to wander for long. 

Someone is now standing uncomfortably close to you. The bar being nearly empty, you know whoever it is chose to stand next to you on purpose. You don’t look, hoping you can ignore them.

“Jawa Juice,” you hear a familiar modulated voice say to the bartender. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, then look out of the corner of your eyes as you exhale, watching as a pair of gloved hands lay a Beskar helmet on the bar top.

You’re not surprised that he found you, being the expert tracker that he is. You should’ve expected that he would if he wanted to. What you didn’t expect is that he would want to find you.

“Boba thinks he can get me a ship.” 

You stare forward and take a sip of your drink, rolling your eyes to yourself. Really? That’s all he has to say? He broke your heart and that’s all he has to say. Fucking asshole. 

As much as you want to, you don’t show your anger. There’s no reason to start trouble in the currently calm cantina. “Is that what you were talking about?” you ask simply.

“He and Fennec are headed to Dune Sea,” Din adds lowly. “To Hutt’s Palace.”

You choke on your drink. You are very much aware of famed crime lord Jabba the Hutt, who was killed a few years back. As you catch your breath, you ask, “He what?” You turn and look at him. “Why?”

“He intends on turning it into a sector of the Bounty Hunter’s Guild,” Din responds. “He offered work, should I want it.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing is off the table yet,” Din responds, staring down at the drink in his hands, indicating that he may still be considering options.

“And Bo-Katan?” you simply ask. Under your skin, your pulse is racing. You know they spoke before leaving, but what was said?

Din takes another sip, leaving you in limbo for another moment. “She’s returning to Lothal,” he responds. “Laying low for a bit before we move forward with preparations to take back Mandalore.”

You stare up at him. “We?”

“I have the Darksaber. She has the connections, the knowledge. I have to work with her if she is to meet her goal of reuniting Mandalorians. If Mandalore is livable, as she believes, and I choose to rule, she will back me without objection.” He turns his head to you, and you meet his gaze. “She would lead my council.”

“So what? She rejected your marriage proposal?” you scoff, looking away as you finish off your drink and gesture for a second one.

“It wasn’t brought up for consideration,” Din admits. “You were right. She’s not interested in the throne.”

You purse your lips tightly together. You badly want the satisfaction of saying “I told you so” but instead you choose to remain silent.

Din lays his hand on yours. “That never once should’ve crossed my mind.” You look down at his gloved hand on yours, then up at him and into his eyes, still bloodshot and raw. “I’m sorry if I hurt you. I-I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, you weren’t,” you say coldly as you remove your hand from under his and look away. You are still upset, but you know it’s not fair to argue with a man who had just lost everything that mattered most to him.

“Dank Farrik,” Din swears under his breath, uttering your name. “Can you please cut me some slack?”

“Why should I?” you snap. 

“Because I don’t know what I’m doing. I mean, I learn that what I was taught about the Mandalorians is all wrong, all archaic as fuck, and now I’m expected to relearn their culture, reunite them, and rule them. All while getting dealt shit cards left and right. The last thing-the absolute last fucking thing I need right now is you upset with me.”

You snap around, ready to strangle him, but as you look at him and his exhausted face, you defuse yourself by taking a long, deep breath and slowly exhaling. Amid all your anger and hurt, you had almost forgotten everything he must be going through. Not to mention a man who hadn’t slept much if at all since – when was the last you had slept before your nap earlier? Tython? If you hadn’t slept in that long, he has gone just as long, if not longer. He must be beyond exhausted. 

“There’s no use in arguing right now,” you concede. 

A minute passes. “I honestly did not mean to hurt you,” Din murmurs. “I will do whatever it takes to make it up to you.”

“You should go get some rest,” you say, ignoring him. “Clear your head.”

“Yeah, just let me go back to my ship,” Din quickly responds. “Oh, wait.”

You hang your head low to hide a small smile. Despite everything, he can still find some humor, and so can you. “I meant in a hotel, Din.”

“Will you come with me?” You look up at him, wondering what exactly he means by that. “What I mean is, will you stay with me? Not at a hotel. I mean, you could come to the hotel with me if you have nowhere else to go. We could sleep in separate rooms. But…will you leave with me?” He sighs. It’s obvious he’s flustered, maybe feeling some of his drink. He runs his hand through his hair. “Fuck, I don’t know what I’m trying to ask.” He pounds his fist on the bar and tries once more. “When I have a ship, will you leave Tatooine with me? That’s what I’m trying to get to.”

You chuckle, having never seen Din so confused and flushed before. It’s almost kind of cute on him. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” you say. “But for now, let’s get some rest, okay?”

“Will you stay go to a hotel with me?”

You could very easy return to your parents. There is really no reason for you to stay at a hotel, unless you want to be close to Din. You weigh the option for a moment before responding. “Yes.”

“Separate rooms?”

“Separate rooms.”

Din nods to show he understands. He pays both of your tabs, places his helmet back on, and you both head out of the cantina. You offer the Spaceport Hotel or Mos Eisley Inn since they would provide all that you would need at the cheapest prices, but Din feels you deserve something better than the crumbling inns the lumpy beds they offer. To you, anything would be better than the cramped ships you’ve been sleeping in for months, but the least he could do was provide you with something with a little extra comfort. You don’t argue it.

You both agree to try the Lucky Despot, a large cargo ship that was transformed into a hotel and casino since it was no longer capable of flight. You approach the decommissioned ship, half buried in the rough sands of the planet. You climb the steps to the reception area. You feel at home since you’re inside a ship, but the décor makes it feel warmer and more comfortable. As much as you missed it, it seemed it would offer much more luxury than the Razor Crest.

Din takes care of the rooms while you wait, watching people as they walk and mingle. Once things are settled, you both take a turbolift down to the floor where you will be staying the night. He walks you to your room, where he stops and hands you two keys, one for your room and one you assume to be a spare for his. 

“If you need anything…” 

You nod and say nothing more before turning to your door and opening it. As the door seals shut behind you, you flip on the light and walk over to the lone bed and flop down onto it. You take off your shoes and toss them across the room, then throw yourself backwards on top of the silky sheets. The mattress is soft like a cloud. You could probably fall asleep in seconds if you closed your eyes. Instead, you stare up at the ceiling, replaying everything in your head. The night in the cockpit after Sorgan, handing Grogu over to the Jedi, Din suggesting he marry Bo-Katan, the cantina.

Will you stay with me? Will you leave Tatooine with me?

To be honest, when he first asked, you were entirely uncertain what your answer would or should be. You once made a promise to Din, and when you had said that you would never leave him, that you would do anything for him, that you loved him, you meant it. But life had pulled a complete one-eighty since then. Din had said you loved you, called you the brightest star in the galaxy, insinuated that he never wanted to leave you, only for him to say he was considering marrying another woman so she could rule at his side. 

Deep down, you understand that he didn’t mean any harm by it. He admitted it himself: he doesn’t know what he was doing. He’s lost, trying to come to terms that he was raised by zealots and undoing what he was taught while dealing with the loss of all that he had. You could understand the difficulty of it. Malachor, you were dealing with the loss of Grogu too, and that alone was tearing you up. And you couldn’t fault him for being so socially inept. He was raised by a cult, sheltered from the world during the most vital years of his life.

The fact that he came to find you in the cantina coupled with the fact that he convinced the others to let you rest on the ride to Tatooine, plus him apologizing for hurting you – they all show that he cares.

You inhale deeply as you consider going to talk to Din. To at least tell him that you would leave Tatooine with him, follow him wherever he may go. You wonder if he’s worried about you leaving him. Maybe telling him you wouldn’t leave would take one thing off his mind so he could sleep better. Or maybe he was already sleep. Perhaps the thought of you not joining him didn’t trouble him as much as you think. You exhale loudly as you roll out of bed, deciding to just go talk. You don’t bother putting on your shoes, telling yourself you’ll just pop next door for a quick chat, maybe apologize for acting cold and cruel.

You’re standing outside his door. You hold your breath and quietly knock. No answer. “Din? It’s me,” you say to the metal door. Nothing. As you had thought, he likely passed out the moment he hit the bed. If he even made it that far. You think you hear a noise from inside, but you can’t say for certain. At least he’s still alive.

You’re holding the card-like key to his room in your hand. You lightly tap it in the palm of your other hand, wondering, debating if you should enter. Maybe this was just a waste of time. You don’t want to wake him if he’s sleeping. Or what if he is…indisposed? It would absolutely be your luck that you would walk in as he was in the refresher feeding the sarlacc, so to speak. As if things aren’t already awkward enough between the two of you. Or maybe he’s showering, something you so desperately need as well. Accidentally seeing Din wet and in a towel, or, Maker help you, completely naked would give you feelings you have no business feeling right now. Things are confusing enough as they are without you wanting to pounce on him like some wild beast. You wonder if you should just leave.

Something in the back of your mind is telling you to go in. After all, he gave you the key for a reason. 

Fuck it. What’s the worst that could happen? You tap the key against the lock. A red light on the wall beside the lock turns green and the door opens, allowing you to step inside. The second you’re in the room the door closes behind you. The room is mostly dark, considering the guest rooms are in the interior of the old ship, meaning no windows. The only light is coming from a dimly lit lamp on the bedside table. You give a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dramatic change from the brightly lit hallway. 

As they adapt, you immediately see Din sitting on the bed, sans armor, his head in his hands. As you take another step into the room, you hear a quiet sob as his body shakes. Your heart falls to pieces. 

He gave you his key… 

It hits you like a ton of bricks. He knew he wasn’t okay. He knew he didn’t want to be left alone; he was just too stubborn or too manly or too afraid to admit – you aren’t certain which. Plus, you were acting like a complete bitch at the cantina. Regardless, it was clear he needed you.

“Oh, Din,” you coo, approaching him. He doesn’t look up. Your eyes search him, wondering what you should do, feeling so helpless. You sit beside him and wrap your arm around his back, holding onto his shoulder, consoling him. His body shakes with his erratic breathing.

“It’s okay.” You lay your head against his shoulder and a hand on his lap. “I’m here.”

He responds by uncovering his face and grabbing your hand, holding it tight. His palm is wet with tears. You unwrap yourself from him and take his hand in both of yours.

“I’m just…overwhelmed. And tired. So tired.” He seems incapable of formulating a full sentence between sobs.

“I know, Din.”

“Everything has happened…so fast.”

“I know.”

“The ship. The k-kid…”

“He’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

“And how…how can I…can I…unite a nation? I-I can’t lead.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“We?” He looks at you, his face distorted, wet, and red.

“Yes,” you affirm. “We can navigate all this together.”

His face clinches tighter before he lets out another sob.

You let go of his hand and crawl behind him on the bed. You place your hands on his shoulders. “Come here.” You help him twist into bed and guide him toward the pillows. As you lay down together, your arm stays bent under his head. He buries his face into your shoulder and chest as your other arm wraps around him. Your cheek rests on his forehead. You quietly say, “Shh, it’s okay,” as you run your fingers through his thick hair. “I’m not going anywhere. Get some rest. It’ll all be okay.” 

As you lay there with him, you feel his muscles loosen. His sobs turn more and more quiet and his breathing less erratic. Fortunately, after who knows how long, he drifts off to sleep. He’s exhausted. He’s broken. He just needs rest. And you.

Once you’re certain that he’s okay, you close your eyes and allow yourself to drift off to sleep along with him.

\--

Your eyes flutter open, awakening from a sweet dream that you’re already beginning to forget. You take a relaxed breath as you open your eyes and make out a pair of eyes staring back at you.

“Din…?” you question groggily.

“Hey,” he responds softly, a small smile on his face. He seems so refreshed and relaxed compared to the day before, his eyes no longer red or heavy. “Good morning.”

“Morning? Is it really?” It had been the afternoon last you remembered. You twist your body to look at the chrono sitting on the night table. 6:49am. Maker, had you really slept that long? You both really must’ve needed the sleep. “Have you been awake long?” You sit up in bed.

Din sits up beside you. “No, not long.”

“Were you…were you just…watching me sleep?” 

“You smile in your sleep sometimes.” He grins devilishly. “You know, when you’re not snoring.”

“I snore?” you question, your face contorted. You wipe a little drool from your face. Oh, Maker, you drool too. You are such a mess. “Why have you never told me that before?”

Din chuckles. “You’ve never asked.”

You give a sheepish smile as you look down at your lap and place a small strand of loose hair behind your ear. You feel awkward. Was he not going to say anything about yesterday? Was he going to pretend none of it happened? You wonder if he’s embarrassed or ashamed, having completely broken down like that. 

Eventually, you swallow hard and look at Din with soft eyes. “Are you okay? Honestly.”

Din releases a large pent-up breath as he looks down at the sheets. He bobs his head. “Yeah, I think I’m good. I just hadn’t slept, and I think everything hit me at once. Things have been…”

“Chaotic?”

“Yeah.” Din looks up at you, seemingly relieved that you understand. “And I-I miss the kid, you know?” He rubs the nape of his neck.

“I know.” You inch close to him and lay the side of your head on his shoulder, placing a hand on his chest. “I’m sure he misses us too.”

Din laughs lowly. “He was such a little shit though. He’ll give that Jedi trouble.”

You chuckle. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he brings him back. Probably threatened to turn that X-Wing around a time or two if he didn’t stop touching things. Hopefully he didn’t eject the Jedi.”

A half-smile appears across his face.

You raise a hand to his cheek and gently move his face to look at you. Your eyes meet his. “You were a good father to him. He’ll remember you. Always. And maybe one day, Maker willing, you’ll cross paths again.”

“He’ll remember us,” Din corrects, gazing back at you. The two of you stare deeply at one another. He searches your face, as if wondering when or if he should kiss you. 

You feel a warmth growing deep inside you. You’re already in bed with him, touching his skin; just throw yourself at him. You want to throw yourself at him, wondering what it would be like to get lost with him under the sheets. But thinks feel too awkward. Just a day before, you were hating him for considering proposing to another woman. He was still recovering from an emotional breakdown. It didn’t feel like the right time. 

You remove your hand, purse your lips, and look away, searching for something to say.

“Should we, um… Do you want to get some breakfast?” Din asks awkwardly.

“Oh, yeah, sure. I’m starving,” you respond, remembering that you never even touched your flatbread at the cantina the day before. “Shit. I can’t go anywhere like this though. I haven’t washed in days, and I can’t shower without a change of clothes. I must smell like a Bantha.”

“That’s offensive to Banthas,” Din jests. 

“Din!” you slap him playfully on the arm. You smile, realizing it was the first time he truly teased with you since before Moff Gideon stole Grogu. It’s a huge relief to you. “Is it really that bad?”

“No, you smell fine. And you look beautiful,” Din assures you, causing you to blush. “But, uh, if you want, we can freshen up a bit. Maybe eat breakfast in the café then search for a change of clothes.”

“Rumor has it that the way to a girl’s heart is through food and shopping,” you flirt nervously.

“Well, then. It’s a date.”

Your heart flutters as your push yourself out of the bed. Did he just say…date?

“Meet you upstairs in fifteen?” Din asks.

You nod, then turn to walk out of the room. Before you reach the door, you stop and turn. “Hey Din? If we’re not leaving today, maybe consider keeping just the one room for tonight.” You turn and leave the room, biting your lip like some lovestruck teenager.

\--

You don’t know why you’re nervous as you ride the turbolift to the top floor, fiddling lightly with your fingers as you watch the numbers on the panel change with each passing floor. It was just breakfast. You had eaten far too many meals to count with him around. Even picnicked with him and Grogu a couple times. But he said…he definitely said “date.” Something about the word made it all feels so…strange. You may finally be able to turn this into something more serious. Plus, it was the first time just the two of you alone, not you, Din, and the kid in tow.

The turbolift stops and you get off. You enter the café and see Din sitting at a table, reading over a menu. He’s wearing his armor, helmet sitting off to the side on the table. You don’t know why you get a warm, tingly feeling inside you when you see him this way.

“Long time, no see,” you say as you walk up to him.

“Shit, I didn’t see you,” Din fumbles to his feet. He pulls out a chair and gestures for you to sit. 

“Wow, you weren’t kidding about this whole date thing, were you?”

“I’m a man of my word, aren’t I?”

You smile. 

“What do you recommend?” Din asks as you both settle in. “To eat, I mean. I’ve never had time to indulge in anything worthwhile on Tatooine.” 

“Ah, I don’t know. Dune Sea oysters are a delicacy to us natives,” you respond, smiling slyly.

“Oysters? On a desert planet?” 

“Mhm. Worth a try.” You burst into giggles, unable to go through with your ruse.

“What? What’s so funny?” 

“They’re Bantha balls, Din,” you laugh. “Dune Sea oysters are literally just Bantha balls. For a traveler, I’m surprise you’ve never had them.”

He blushes and laughs under his breath. “I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure, and I think I’ll keep it that way.”

The two of you enjoy a breakfast of toast, eggs, fruit, and blue milk. You haven’t had such a hearty breakfast in…well, you can’t remember, it’s been so long. You enjoy casual chitchat in between bites. You don’t want to start an argument or anything of the sort between the two the you, but in the back of your mind, you’re curious of his plans for the immediate future.

“So about that ship Boba promised,” you finally say, your curiosity getting the best of you.

“He has a second ship, one he purchased when Slave I was impounded,” he responds. “He’s going to loan it to me. Once Cara gets the bounty for Moff Gideon, and maybe after a few hunts, we can buy our own.”

“Our own?” You look at him with your eyebrows raised, equally shocked and confused.

“Well, yeah. The ship could be yours too. If you wanted it to be.”

You don’t know how to respond. He said it so casually, as if offering to own something with you wasn’t a big deal and just expected. “Is this your idea of a proposal?” you jest before taking a drink.

“What? You don’t know?” Din questions as he leans toward you. You raise an eyebrow but don’t respond, glass to your mouth. “Mandalorians propose by presenting their intended with a ship.”

You choke on the blue milk you’re drinking. “I’m sorry what? Are you serious?” You look up at him. Your mind is swirling. His face is deadpan. You’re completely unable to gauge if he’s serious.

After a couple seconds, Din laughs as leans back in his chair. “Sometimes you’re too easy to fool, cyar’ika.”

“I know.” You almost feel embarrassed that you let yourself be fooled, but you love that he’s playing with you. “I mean, I can’t wear a ship on my finger.” An awkward laugh escapes your lips as you pick up your fork to take a bite of egg.

“I’m serious about the ship though,” Din assures you. “Whatever is mine, I want to be yours. If it’s what you want.”

“Oh, Din, I-” For a moment you worry about what your future would look like. Flying planet to planet chasing some of the galaxy’s worst criminals. Constantly worrying about Din and his safety as he potentially would be gone on a hunt for days at a time. Or maybe you both settling down on some foreign planet trying to rebuild a society, a part of some new royal family, both of your trying to figure out how to rule. Would you guys start a family? Maker, your kids would be beautiful… 

You quickly brush your thoughts aside and return to the present. “I would like that very much.”

“Good.” He smiles.

After breakfast, Din dons his helmet and you head out into the light of the twin suns. As you walk along the bazaar, admiring items that the various shops have to offer, your hand somehow finds Din’s and your fingers intertwine. You wish he wasn’t wearing his gloves so you could feel his touch, but it was better than nothing.

As you pass a weapon supplier, Din suggests that you start mentally compiling a list of things that you may need in the future, once you secured the ship. Some weapons, some medical supplies, a few other things. Everything was lost when Moff Gideon decimated the Razor Crest. 

“It’s a rather strange list to stock your first home together with, isn’t it?” you joke. “Who needs throw pillows and sonic blenders when you could have, I don’t know, thermal detonators and bacta?”

You chuckle along with him. The two of you talking about a future makes your heart pound. You aren’t certain if it’s all or a joke or something not completely off the table. Would Din want to settle down?

The two of you pass Jawas selling vehicle-repairing droids. Despite him wearing a helmet, you know Din is watching from the corner of his eyes. His body tenses as you both walk by.

“I guess we won’t be needing a droid for the ship,” you say, referring to the fact that you could repair things. It was one of the reasons he brought you on the Razor Crest in the first place.

“No, definitely not,” he responds simply, his pace picking up before a Jawa could stop you and perform a sales pitch.

“The Jedi had an astromech with him,” you remind him. “Grogu seemed smitten. I’m guessing he doesn’t get that from his father.”

Din gives a small, forced chuckle.

“What do you have against droids anyway?” you question curiously. You know he once hated them and became less dubious after IG-11 sacrificed himself for the group. He never made it clear why he was so distrustful of them.

“It’s…complicated.”

“Oh. Well, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I'm only curious.”

Din stops in his tracks causing you to stop as well. You turn and look at him, concerned. “What is it? Din?”

“What do you know of Aq Vetina?” he questions.

You furrow your brows and shake your head. The name doesn’t ring a bell. “Nothing.” 

He looks around, seeing all the people in the bazaar. “Come with me.” He grabs your arm and takes you to an empty alley. You know he has something to say, something he doesn’t want others to hear. What could it be?

“Aq Vetina is where I was born,” he tells you once you’re both away from others. You listen intently, blocking out the sounds coming from the road. He takes a deep breath before continuing. “When I was a child, there was an attack. I remember fire, blasts everywhere. People running, screaming, falling to the ground.” He stops for a moment. “The attack was perpetrated by droids. They decimated the city, slaughtered everyone. My parents hid me under a hatch. It was the only way they could protect me. I stayed there, listening as an explosion killed my parents. Then the door opened and there stood this giant metal figure. A monstrous battle droid towered over me. He cocked his arm, his weapon, and pointed it straight at me. A child. I closed my eyes and looked away, waiting for the blast. I heard shots, but I was still alive. When I opened my eyes, there stood a helmeted figure. A Mandalorian. He killed the droid that was ready to kill me.” 

“Oh, Din,” you mutter, tears welling in your eyes as he tells you this, a hand covering your mouth. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s fine. It’s just-I’ve never told anyone that before.”

“I know,” you say. You stand there awkwardly for a moment. By his body language, you know he’s uncomfortable talking about his past. You deeply appreciate the fact that he’s letting you in. You step close to him and wrap your arms around his armor and rest your forehead on his shoulder, consoling him. He responds by wrapping his arms around you. You stand there, smelling him as you hold him. Leather, sweat, and the faint scent of a woodsy smelling cologne that is wearing off permeates your nostrils. You find it comforting.

Eventually, you pull back. “Let’s get what we came for so we can go back to the hotel.” 

\--

You find the clothes you’re looking for and head back to the hotel before the suns can reach their peak. You return to Din’s room and lay your things on the table. The morning stroll through the bazaar was enough to break a sweat and you want very little more than to shower.

“Do you want to shower first?” you ask Din as you undo your hair, letting it fall freely down your back.

“No, go ahead. I’m used to smelling like a Wookie's ballsack.”

“Din!” you squeal before laughing. You can’t get over his vulgarity. A sign of just how comfortable he is around you. You smile, thankful that the moving moment you shared in the alley didn’t ruin the day. If anything, it made him even more at ease, as if opening to you lifted a huge weight from his shoulders. 

“Are you sure? About the shower?” 

“Ladies first,” he responds.

You watch as he sits on the edge of the bed and removes his gloves. As he reveals his hands, you can’t help but feel a hunger grow within. Him sitting there in his Beskar, slowly revealing his body. Especially after opening to you the way he did. Is he doing it on purpose? Does he know how wet he is making you by such a simple gesture? You would pounce on him if you didn’t feel so gross.

“Fine,” you sigh, snapping yourself out of it. “I guess I’ll just get naked and hop into the shower,” you tease. “Maybe I’ll think of someone special while I’m in there. Oh, Maker, I’ll be so wet... Because, you know, water.”

You smile and give him a little wave with your fingers as you disappear into the refresher. You laugh to yourself, wondering what in the galaxy you had just said. You were acting forward, and that made you feel stupid. But you knew it was stupid to feel stupid because the two of you had already had sex. And you’ve slept together. You’ve seen him naked. You’ve seen him at his most vulnerable moments. 

Shaking any negative thoughts away, you take off your dirty, disgusting clothes and throw them into a pile in the corner. You step into the shower and turn it on to a perfectly warm temperature. You close your eyes and lift your head, feeling the water fall onto your body from the showerhead hanging from the ceiling. You thank Maker it isn’t a shitty sonic shower. They may be more efficient, but nothing beats the feeling of water falling onto you, taking your stress with it as it flows down the drain.

You open your eyes as you hear the refresher door open. You turn and see Din entering the room, completely naked.

“Din!” Your instinct is to try to cover yourself, but before you can move, he’s in the shower with you, his mouth on yours, throwing you against the wall. His hand is on your neck. You feel the wet tile against your back as your lips melt into his.

“You can’t just leave me with that picture you painted and expect me not to go wild,” Din says. “You dirty girl.”

“That’s why I’m in the shower,” you joke. Oh, Maker, why did you say that? Now was not the time to be joking.

Din looks at you and laughs. You know that’s what he loves about you, always so charmingly quick-witted and funny. He fully understands and appreciates your humor.

You giggle as you look at him. His eyes twinkle as his smile fades. As his facial muscles relax, you notice a scar on the bridge of his nose, something you never paid attention to before, always so distracted by his eyes…and other things. Water falls onto his body, tricking down his strong shoulders, his arms and chest glistening. The hunger in you grows stronger and stronger by the second.

“You don’t know how badly I’ve needed you,” Din says, his eyes locked on yours. “You’re the only thing that can pull me out of darkness.”

Din pulls your mouth back to his. Your arms are around his neck. You suck the bottom of his lip and a moan escapes from deep within his throat. He pulls your arms up and pins them to the wall, holding them at the wrist, pushing you firmly against the wall. You can feel his hardened cock as he leans against your body. He unlocks his lips from yours and kisses your neck with his deliciously plump lips. Your knees feel weak as his stubble tickles you in the most pleasurable way possible. Warm, tender tingles spread like shockwaves through your body as his hot breath hits the crook of your neck. It’s like he knows your weak spots. You are absolutely at his mercy.

“Do you like that?” he whispers.

“Yes,” you gasp.

As he does this, he releases his grip on one of your wrists and glides his hand down your arm. Goosebumps form on you as his hand touches your wet body. Before you know it, he is gently caressing your nipple with his thumb. You moan into his mouth as your body squirms. 

Din releases your other wrist from his grasp and follows a similar trail down your arm. He runs his digits down the side of your body, following your curves to your hips. You allow one of your arms to fall onto his shoulder and wrap it around his neck. You nuzzle his shoulder with your nose, enjoying the pleasure. You lay your other hand on the crook of the arm that he’s using to guide his hand along your body. He glides past your hips down to slides down and over to the back of your leg. He pulls it forward and up, lifting your leg against his hip. You hook your leg onto his and rub yourself against his body. Maker, you want him to take you right then and there. 

“Do you want it?” Din asks.

“Yes,” you plead quietly into his ear. 

“Do you need it?”

“Yes,” you whimper as you feel his cock flex against you. “I fucking need it.”

Din pulls his head back, his nose within inches of yours. You wrap your arms around his neck. He moves his free hand down to your other thigh and grabs you. At the same time, you push off with your foot and wrap your legs around him, crossing your feet near his bare ass, tightly holding onto him with your thighs. He presses your body against the tile and stares deeply through the steam and into your eyes as he moves to place his cock inside of you. The second the tip of him touches your skin you feel you could combust. He pushes himself deeper inside of you, the two of you moaning in relief as you finally connect for the first time in weeks. 

“I needed this too,” Din moans as he begins to thrust inside of you, causing you to dig your nails into the skin on his back. Your head falls forward and you bite him on the shoulder. “Dank Farrik!” he swears under his breath, both in pain and ecstasy as you dig into him

You gasp for air through the heavy steam filling the room. Him fucking you feels good, but you can barely breathe in the shower. Not to mention, you were getting tired of holding on so tight. “Fuck me on the bed,” you pant. 

You feel Din slip out of you as he lifts you higher on his hips so he can walk. You press your thighs tighter around him as you bury your face into his neck, kissing him. You feel your back peel away from the wall and water pours over you as he backs out of the shower, carrying you with him. It’s cold as you leave the humid refresher and enter the dry bedroom. He throws you down onto the bed and you look up at him with fiery eyes. He goes to climb over you, but you gently kick him away with your foot.

“How do you want it?” he asks as he reaches down and grabs his cock, giving it a little tug to keep it hard. He’s standing over you, watching as you push yourself up for a better view of his body, arching your back to lift your breasts.

“I don’t know, but I like this view.”

“Do you?” he questions, slowly moving his hand along his shaft. You nod. “I’ve shown you mine, now show me yours.”

“I’m not sure I want to.” You bend one knee but keep your thighs closed, teasing him. 

“A minute ago, you were all but begging for this cock. You think you can resist now?” 

“Yeah, I think I’m good.” You look down at your hand as you run your fingertips lightly between your breasts and down your stomach. “The question is, can you resist?” You look up at him, watching him watching you. Your hands have made it down to your pussy. You spread your legs just enough for him to be able to see as your fingertips glide past your clit, down to your hole. You place two fingers inside, biting your lower lip as you enter yourself. 

“You don’t deserve this pussy.” You moan in the back of your throat before continuing. “All the shit you put me through, Din. You should have to stand there and watch while I fuck myself.” 

“Fuck,” he groans. “You can’t do that to me.”

“I think I can.”

He watches as you remove your fingers, wet with your juices, and bring them to your clit. You slowly swirl your sweet spot.

“Stop,” he begs, “and let me fuck you.”

“Why should I do what you say?” you question. You stare intensely at one another for several moments, each waiting for the other to break as you tease yourselves. Then, you close your eyes and moan, feeling the tension growing. You’re not sure how much longer you can hold yourself on the edge, but you refuse to give in. 

Finally, Din grabs your wrist with one hand, stopping you from pleasing yourself, while placing his other on your throat. His face is within inches of yours. “Because you fucking like it.” 

A small satisfied smile appears your face, pleased that he broke first.

“Now get on all fours or I’ll do it for you,” Din commands. He lets go of you and you obey, flipping over onto your hands and knees. The bed sinks under his weight as he climbs onto it, kneeling behind you. One of his hands grips your hips as he pulls himself towards you, guiding himself inside of you. You squeeze the sheets as he pushes himself into you deeper than ever before. He’s slow at first, but then quick begins to pound the holy fuck out of you. The sound of his body smacking against yours drives you wild.

“This pussy is mine,” he growls as he thrusts. “And this ass.” He smacks it hard, causing you to yelp. His fingers weave through your hair until he’s close to the scalp. “Say it.” Lightly, as if careful not to hurt you, he tugs. “Say it’s mine.”

You arch your back, popping out your ass. This new angle allows him to slide against a spot in your pussy that feels glorious, to say the least. You grab a bigger fistful of the sheets beneath you as you scream. “Fuck! It’s yours. It’s all yours.”

“Good girl.” He smacks your ass again before returning his hand to your hip. As he thrusts, his balls smack against your clit, teasing you. Even the sound is arousing you further. You desperately want to feel his touch.

“Fuck. Touch me, Din,” you shriek as you reach back to grab the hand on your hip and pull it to your clit. “Maker, please.” Your knees nearly buckle the moment his hand touches you there. He rubs gently in circles. He lets go of your hair with his other hand and moves it to your throat. He pulls you up from all fours and brings you close to him. You’re now straddling his legs as you sit on his cock, bouncing on it. He pulls you tight against his body, your back against his abdomen and chest. He continues rubbing your clit, increasing speed, while moving the other hand from your throat to your breast, fondling it. 

“Do you like this?” Din whispers in your ear from behind.

It nearly sends you over the edge. “Y-yes! Yes! I fucking love it, Din.” Two of his fingers continue to swirl around your swollen, pulsating nub. You slow your movements on his cock, enjoying his hands and breath on you as you near the edge. “Maker, like that. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. I’m. S-so. Close.”

“Cum for me,” he whispers before sinking his lips into the nape of your neck, keeping the rhythm down below. 

You can feel your walls tightening around his cock, squeezing it. 

“Yes,” Din murmurs. “That’s a good girl.”

“F-Fuck, Din,” you scream as you begin to climax. You instinctively reach up in search of something to grab and find his forearm. Your nails dig into him, unable to control yourself. “Oooh, fuck!”

“Good girl,” he repeats.

As you come out of it, you grab his hand and remove it from your clit, panting to catch your breath. He puts his arms around you, one still groping your breast while the other rests on your abdomen. He is thrusting himself inside you, which feels even more amazing after orgasm, but as you regain control of your body you continue riding him once more, quickly finding harmony as you synchronize your movements, finding a rhythm that feels right.

“Oh, shit, cyar’ika,” Din moans as he squeezes you tighter against him. His cock twitches inside of you as he breathes your name through clenched teeth. He screams, his pelvis no longer thrusting toward you as he reaches orgasm, you the only thing keeping his orgasm going. You feel his seed filling you from the inside. His hold on you releases, but he stays inside you for a moment, as if he’s unable to move. He rests his head against yours. Finally, he slowly removes himself, sending a shiver through your body as you feel every inch of his shaft withdraw from you. He collapses back on the bed. You scoot over just enough to clear his body so you can fall back as well, sighing in satisfaction as you do. The two of you lay there for a moment, panting and sticky with sweat, mixed with wetness from the shower.

“Shit, the shower!” you suddenly exclaim, remembering where you had started. “Did we-did we leave it running?”

“I’m glad that’s what you’re thinking about right now,” Din laughs between breaths. “Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours. I’ll take care of it.” He kisses your forehead, then rolls himself out of bed. You watch as he walks away, staring at his perfectly sculpted ass and legs as he disappears into the refresher. You bite your lip. Fucking Malachor, pull yourself together. There’s no way you need anymore right now. 

You roll on your side, watching as he walks back into the room. He slips into bed beside you and rolls to face you. You look at his face, flushed from your escapades. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you respond. “I mean, I didn’t even get to finish my shower before I was so rudely interrupted.”

Din raises his eyebrows, the shrugs. “Alright, next time I’ll reconsider.”

“Don’t you dare,” you respond, grinning.

“That’s what I thought.”

You blush as you run your fingertips along his arm. “Remind me how to say ‘I love you’ in Mando’a.” You had heard him say it a couple times since the night on the Razor Crest. You only knew a handful of phrases in Mando’a, mostly swear words and other odd things you’d heard him utter. If there was a possibility of you both becoming Mandalorian royalty someday, you need to learn their culture, their language. You’re more than willing to embrace it all.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” he responds. “The literal translation is ‘I know you forever.’”

“I know you forever?” you repeat. “That…That’s beautiful. It seems much more, I don’t know, deeper than ‘I love you.’”

“Sometimes ‘I love you’ isn’t enough.”

“I know what you mean,” you respond. You move your hand from his arm to his face, feeling its warmth. You caress him as you look deeply into his eyes and say, slowly and carefully so as not to mess it up, “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go watch the end of Season 2, episode 3 of Narcos to get a visual of some of the sex. Seriously. *fans self*
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	3. Baar'murcyur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baar'murcyur - _[bahr-MOOR-shoor]_ \- making love, having sex
> 
> Din returns to bounty hunting and the two of you make use of your alone time on the ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once it gets going, this chapter is more smut than plot progression. Happy Valentine's Day?! lol. If you're looking for plot, just read until it gets dirty haha. Hope you enjoy!

“Din? You didn’t drown in there, did you?” you call as you stand outside of the door of the refresher. “I know you’re not the best swimmer, but kriff, it’s a _shower_.” You smile to yourself as you turn to the mirror on the wall to fix your hair. You hear the shower stop running, indicating that he’s still alive in there at least. He had disappeared into the refresher you don’t know how long ago, but it feels like forever. Every second you’re apart is an eternity.

You’re in the process of putting your hair into a plaited bun as the refresher door finally opens. You turn and look, watching Din as he enters the room. You nearly drop the pin in your mouth as you gawk at him. He’s wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, water dripping down his torso.

“Maker…” you utter. You feel a warmness grow inside you. He’s so beautiful. Every inch of him. His tanned skin. His muscular body. His facial hair. How did you get so lucky? A part of you wants to go to him, rip off that towel as you sink to your knees, and take him into your mouth, devouring him until he can’t take it anymore and begs to feel you from the inside. But you’re exhausted, having taken him so many times the night before, and you’re afraid his member may snap off if you touch him again.

Din gives you a half smile and blushes as he rubs the nape of his neck. “Sorry. I lost track of time. It’s been too long.”

You understand what he’s saying. Other than your escapades in the shower the afternoon before, neither one of you have had much time to enjoy a shower in far too long. You probably spent just as long in the refresher earlier that morning, savoring every second the warm water touched your skin.

“Mmm,” you respond, agreeing with him as you turn back to the mirror and carefully place pins in your hair, keeping it in place. “Hopefully our next ship will have a shower that’s larger than the sardine can that was on the Crest.”

“We’ll find out soon enough.”

You freeze and stare at your reflection. “I guess so…” You trail off as you look down at the dresser beneath the mirror, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. His words are a gentle reminder that you’re about to leave the hotel, leave Tatooine onto your next adventure. Your stomach drops, a combination of anxiety, dread, and excitement filling you. You don’t know what’s next, what the future holds. The two of you have barely talked about it. You’re aware that he wants to go back hunting for a while, make some money for the future before meeting with Bo-Katan and dealing with Mandalore.

Ugh, Mandalore.

Thinking of the word in your head alone gives you chills. You can handle the thought of following Din planet to planet while he hunts dangerous criminals, leaving you alone for days at a time as he puts his life at risk, but you’re not sure what to think about going to that planet in particular. Would anything even be waiting for you there? Would the Empire still be present? Would the Mandalorians accept Din as ruler, with you at his side? What kind of politics would you both have to deal with?

You turn and watch Din as he dresses, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Are you sure we can’t stay here?” you question, half-serious. “Ignore everything else in the world. Settle down here. It’s my home planet, after all.”

“For someone who supposedly enjoys adventure you sure do push the idea of settling down and living a simple life a lot,” Din jokes.

You’re aware that you suggest it a lot. At least two or three times in the last week alone. You lean against the dresser, arms still folded, and shrug. “I’m just letting you know that there are options.”

“Options?” He glances over at you as he begins to put on his armor. “What in Malachor would I do on Tatooine? Assuming working for Fett is off the table. Repair ships?”

“If anyone knew how ‘well’ you took care of the Crest, they wouldn’t let you touch their ship with an eight-foot pole,” you respond sarcastically, referring to the fact that it was always in such a state of disrepair that even you could barely maintain it.

“Hey, you leave her out of this. She was a classic,” he says, pretending to look offended as he tries not to laugh.

“Which is a polite way of saying she was old and falling to pieces.” You smile. “What about moisture farming? It’s honest work, and I grew up on a farm so I know the ropes.”

“Me? A farmer? Do I look like a farmer to you?” He gestures to himself, partially clad in Beskar.

You giggle. “What? You can’t see yourself living on a hardscrabble moisture farm, tending to the vaporators while I try to keep little Davan from being tramped over by banthas?”

Din stops in the middle of buckling his leather ammo belt and looks at you, an eyebrow raised. “Little Davan?”

You freeze as you realize what you’ve done, essentially revealing just how deeply you have fantasized your future together. “I-uh-well-um…” Your cheeks feel hot as you look down and fidget with your fingers.

Several moments of silence pass before Din chuckles and goes back to dressing. “Just the one?”

You look at him, surprised he’s not at all concerned that you’ve thought about children with him. “Well, no…” you admit. “I imagine we’d have a girl as well. Shae.”

“Shae…” he repeats under his breath, sitting on the edge of the bed to put on his boots. “I imagine she’d be as beautiful and smart as her mother.”

You release your breath, relieved that he seems to be entertaining your thoughts. You move to stand in front of him. You place your hands on his shoulders, straddling him as he sits on the bed. “Just as I imagine Davan would be as handsome and stubborn as his father.” You kiss him on the cheek, right where a tiny freckle sits. Then, you move your lips to his, kissing him lightly. He responds with a deep kiss, grabbing ahold of your back to draw you in tighter.

As you touch, you wish you could have him again. Forget meeting Boba Fett, forgot the new ship, forget leaving the planet, forget bounty hunting. You just want to stay right there in his arms, forever.

After a minute, Din pulls away and sighs. “We have to go…”

“I know,” you groan, pushing yourself away from him. “No offense, but you’d make a terrible farmer. Maybe it’s best if you stick to hunting for now, Mando.”

\--

“Can I ask you something?” you question as you sit at a table inside the cantina, swirling a drink around in your hand. Din raises his eyebrow in response. “When Bo-Katan first told you about Mandalore, you said the planet is cursed. That anyone who goes there dies. What did you mean?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, a voice cuts him off. “You’re not talking about that wasteland again, are you?” You both turn and look up, seeing Boba Fett and Fennec standing beside your table. “I told you, the Empire turned it to glass. The princess is leading you on a wild bantha chase if you ask me.”

“But what does that mean? To turn a planet into glass?” you ask. You’ve heard the phrase before, both from Boba and from others, but it was never clear what it means.

“Meaning, the Empire focused their laser power to reduce the land to nothing. Just one big useless rock,” Boba responds matter-of-factly.

“There’s a story among Tuskens that Tatooine was once glassed,” Din chimes in, looking at you. “They say the oceans were boiled away, and the land literally turned to glass.”

“But Tatooine is perfectly habitable now. Here we are,” you note, gesturing at the thriving cantina. “No glass.”

“Because the glass had centuries to develop into sand,” Din informs.

Boba scowls. “If you wish to see Mandalore for yourself, have at it. The land has always been inhospitable thanks to war after war. How much worse can it get?”

You look at Din, waiting for him to argue. He looks deep in thought but doesn’t say a word. You wonder if Boba is right, if it’s all a waste of time. If the land is even worth trying to live on. But why would Mandalorians fight for something that they and the Empire had destroyed?

“Slave II is at Docking Bay 94,” Boba informs. “There will be plenty work once you’re done playing games with the princess. Find us in Dune Sea. And bring my ship back in one piece.”

“I take it your mission was successful then?” Din immediately asks.

Fennac smirks as she looks at Boba from the corner of her eyes. They both turn and walk away without another word.

“Slave II?” you scoff once they’re out of earshot. “Original. What’s next? Slave III?”

\--

Slave II is a modified Pursuer-class enforcement ship, one you recognize as typically used by police forces throughout the galaxy. It should be much easier for you to maintain since you know it well and it’s not in horrible condition to start with. It’s newer, much newer than the rusty old bucket of a ship that Din last flew. It is thin but tall, boasting three levels with a lifttube to take you to each floor. The bottom level holds a cargo bay and several cells, the second has the quarters and a galley, while the top consists solely of the bridge. This is definitely an upgrade.

Take off is a little bumpy as Din tries to familiarize himself with the new ship. “You good or do you need me to fly?” you ask jokingly. “Because if you don’t kill us, Fett will should you crash this ship.”

Din gives a low laugh but doesn’t otherwise respond, focused on getting the ship into space.

You watch as the ship hovers above and away from land, entering the darkness of space, nothing but stars in the glass in front of you. “What did this cost you anyway? Because Fett doesn’t seem like one to do anyone favors.”

“He’s taking a small cut of our portion of the reward from Gideon’s bounty. Nothing substantial. Far cheaper than buying another ship. Just something to hold us over.” You watch as he sets the ship into hyperdrive. The stars outside the window morph from points of lights to long streaks that stretch out pass the ship. “We’ll be in Nevarro in a few hours.”

“Nevarro?” you question. “Didn’t Karga clean up the place?”

“He’s still a point of contact for the guild under the table,” Din responds simply. “He’ll have work.”

There’s awkwardness in the air. He’s barely looked at you and has been keeping conversation short since meeting with Boba. In fact, he has yet to remove his helmet since entering the ship, which is strange since he’s been freely removing his helmet whenever in private with you the last couple of days. You’re certain his mood has to do with what Boba said about Mandalore.

“How long are you planning to bounty hunt before you stop running from Bo-Katan and Mandalore?” you finally ask, not wanting to ignore the giant bantha in the room any longer.

He’s silent for a moment, as if the question has stunned him and he doesn’t know how to answer. You wonder if you’re right, if he’s opting to ignore everything in regard to Mandalore, still not wanting to accept that he’s the rightful ruler.

“Bo-Katan has waited this long,” he finally responds. “A little more time won’t kill her.”

You try to think how long it’s been since the planet was last inhabited. It’s been about four years since the fall of the Empire, but you’re not sure when they last tried to take it over.

“You didn’t get to answer my question earlier. About Mandalore being cursed.”

He scowls, as if realizing that you’re not going to drop the subject. He lifts his helmet, holding it in his hands. “I don’t have an answer,” he responds as he places his helmet in his lap. “It’s all us foundlings were taught. To never go to Mandalore.”

“So you know little of the planet’s history?” you question, trying to understand what you and he do and do not know.

“Beyond its ancient history, yeah, I don’t know much.”

“And what has Bo-Katan told you?” You wonder if she shared any more information before leaving Gideon’s cruiser.

“Not much of anything,” he admits, staring down at his helmet.

You’re quiet, confused as to why there seems to be so much secrecy. “It all seems strange, doesn’t it? Almost as if-”

“People are harboring a dark past and keeping things secret while they work their own agenda, using us as their pawns? Yeah…”

You nod. “She obviously has a past. Mandalore has a past. What is it that she doesn’t want us to know? And how can we trust her if she won’t be completely transparent? And how do we find the answers to the questions we have?”

“We find someone willing to give us the answers.”

“Who?” you question, watching him rise from the captain’s chair. “Koska? Axe?”

“No. They’re loyal to Bo-Katan. They’ll never tell us everything.”

You ponder if there’s anyone else who may know anything, may even know Bo-Katan’s plan and support it. “For all we know, they may be the only ones loyal to her.”

“Exactly,” he responds, turning to look at you. “So, we find others.”

“Others?” You furrow your brows. “Other Mandalorians? That could take-”

“Days? Months? Years?” Din questions. He sighs. “I know.”

“And that’s even if we find more… How many Mandalorians are even left?”

Din seems to ignore your question as he turns and looks out the window, watching the lights zip past, almost dizzyingly. “We found three. If there are others to find, we will find them. I won’t move forward until I know everything I need to know. If Bo-Katan won’t give me answers, someone, somewhere, will.” He stands straight. “I won’t be used as a pawn in Bo-Katan’s game. Not anymore. I have the Darksaber. Not her. We play by my rules now.”

A fire inside of you ignites when you hear him speak that way. You are surprised and oddly turned on by his sudden change in demeanor and tone, the level of confidence and passion he’s displaying a turn-on. For the first time, he sounds like a true leader, the one calling the shots regarding Mandalore. “Shit, Din. Where did that come from?”

Din turns and looks at you, his face reading confused. “What?” It takes him a second to process. He smiles slyly as he looks at you, realizing what you’re feeling. “You like when I’m in control, don’t you?”

You blush and look away.

“You do, don’t you?” He gives a low, seductive laugh. “I bet you’re wet right now.”

“No…” You bite your lower lip, still avoiding meeting his gaze.

“Don’t lie to me.”

You don’t respond.

“Get on your knees,” he commands.

You look up at Din with a fire in your eyes, keeping eye contact as you rise from your chair then slowly drop to your knees in front of him.

Din lays a hand on your chin. “Good girl.” He rubs a gloved finger across your bottom lip. “Do you think my cock would look good between your lips?”

“Yes,” is all you can manage to squeak.

“Then take that warm, soft mouth of yours and put it around my cock.”

You hook your fingertips into the waistband of his trousers and gently pull them down. You slowly reveal the thick, curly hairs at his base before pulling his trousers down just enough for his member to pop out. He’s only half-erect, having come on to you so suddenly. You softly take grasp of him, feeling the warmth of his member as it twitches in your grip. You close your lips around him, causing him to hum in appreciation. You move your mouth over his shaft, feeling him stiffen, his loose skin tightening as you consume him.

“Do you remember the things I’ve done to you with my tongue?” he questions.

The memory of the first time he brought you to his mouth, that night on the Razor Crest, send an electric shock through you. You feel yourself dripping. How could you forget the way he ravenously licked you all over?

“Use your tongue, cyar’ika.”

You get the hint and tongue the underside of his cock, feeling his veins before swirling around the head. Then, you take him fully into your mouth once more and suck.

“Oh fuck,” Din moans as he places a hand on your head, his fingers entangled in your hair.

Your grip on the base of his cock tightens as you reach up and lightly cup his balls, then give a light squeeze. You let out a single moan, tasting his precum. Din’s body twitches as his smooth skin pulses inside of your mouth.

“Sh-shit. G-Good girl. Fuck…”

You let out a long, deep hum as you move up and down his shaft, your hand gripped around him following your motions. You let go of his balls and move your hand to the exposed skin of his hip. After a few moments, you feel his grip on your hair tighten while slamming his other hand down on the captain’s chair, looking for stability as he knees nearly buckle. Your fingers tighten around his hip, nails digging into the skin.

“Don’t fucking stop,” he gasps. “Let me cum inside that pretty…pretty mouth of yours. Fuck!”

He breaks eye contact, his eyes closing tight as his body convulses and your mouth fills with his warm, salty liquid. You swallow after savoring the taste for a second. Din’s body relaxes, and he leans with his weight against the chair, looking for support. You pull away, giving him one last lick around the head before he pops out of your mouth. You release your grip and look up at him as you lightly wipe away the wetness from your bottom lip.

He pulls his pants back up and moves to collapse into the chair. “Dank farrik. What is with you and cockpits?”

“It’s in the name. Cock. Pit.” You giggle as you pull yourself back up to the chair across from him. “I doubt that’s the first time this ship has seen any action.”

“What do you mean?” he questions, running his fingers through his hair as he tries to regain composure.

“Oh, please,” you say, rolling your eyes. “You know Fett and Fennec are fucking.”

“What?” he questions, looking at you with furrowed brow. “No, I don’t know.”

“Seriously? Fennec’s a fox. There’s no way he isn’t banging her. Not to mention most of her abdomen was replaced with cybernetics, so they can fuck without any repercussions.”

“Yeah, well, Fett looks like a prick.”

“Din!” you squeal, covering your mouth as you break into a fit of giggles from the double entendre.

\--

The two of you make a quick trip to Nevarro to collect a few pucks from Karga and your portion of the reward from Moff Gideon’s bounty from Cara. You don’t stay long, Din not looking for conversation, especially one that would bring up memories of the kid. Though he’s mostly been okay the last couple days, the wounds are still fresh, and you know he’s not interested in mourning openly with anyone besides you.

The first puck sends you to the home of the Mon Calamari, a beautiful oceanic planet, a welcome change from the sandy and volcanic planets you’ve been to lately. You’re bummed that the trip is over in a matter of hours, but glad you didn’t have to be away from Din for long. Without the kid around to entertain you, you realize how incredibly lonely it is when he is on hunts. You have a comlink, of course, to communicate with him, but you try not to use it.

The second puck sends you to the planet Felucia, a humid yet beautifully colored planet. Despite its placement on a trade route, the world is remote and mostly uninhabited, thanks in part to the thick jungle that overruns it. It was the perfect place for a smuggler – Din’s current quarry – to hide out.

You quickly grown bored, unable to enjoy a relaxing down near the ocean unlike the last planet. You’ve chosen to stay near the ship, somewhere in the middle of the thick wilderness, deciding that looking for the nearest farm wasn’t worth a run-in with a jungle rancor or some other species that could get you into trouble. Besides, the Felucian people give you the creeps. Not to mention it’s so terribly hot and sticky outside.

The third morning apart, you awake from a titillating dream involving you and Din. You’re already forgetting the details, but the warmth and wetness between your legs remind you of what you’re craving. You bring the sheets of the bed to your nose, smelling his scent. You want him. _Need_ him. You wonder if he’s nearby, if you should wait for his return, or if you should take care of yourself now to make the desire go away.

You remember the comlink sitting on the table across from you and reach for it. You take it in your hand, wondering if it’s worth disturbing him. What if he’s in the middle of his hunt? What if he’s closing in on the quarry? What if you distract him and get him hurt?

You take a deep breath and hold your finger over the button. “Din? Din, you there?” You hold your breath as you wait for a response.

“I’m here. Everything okay?” he responds after several seconds, his modulated voice causing you to exhale.

“Yes.” You wonder what to say, not knowing how to tell him that you need him without making him feel guilty that he’s been gone for so long. “I-I just miss you.”

“I miss you too, cyar’ika.” You close your eyes, wishing he was speaking directly into your ear and not through a modulator or communicator. You’d give anything to feel his breath against your skin, to touch his skin. “I should be back by tomorrow.”

“I’m not sure I can wait,” you respond, biting your lip, as if he can see you.

“What do you mean? Are you sure you’re okay?” He comes across concerned.

“Yes, I’m fine. I just mean…” You stop, wondering how to proceed. It’s obvious that he won’t be back soon and the fire you’re feeling will not go out on its own. A part of you thinks you should just hang up and deal with it in private, don’t even get Din involved. But where’s the fun in that? “Well, if this com was projection capable, you’d see that I’m in bed…thinking about you…”

He’s silent for a moment. You wonder if this is ridiculous, wonder if he’ll play along or if he’ll find it too vulgar and strange. His breathing shifts, his voice low and deep. “What else would I see?”

You think for a moment, having never done something like this before. You’ve masturbated, of course, more times than you can count, but never while speaking with someone who can’t see you, describing every detail. “You could see me sliding off my panties…” Your voice is warm and alluring and inviting, as if you want him to come back. Not wearing pants, you hook your fingers into your underwear and slowly pull them down your legs.

“Mmm… Then what.”

“I’m lifting my shirt. And if you were here, I would take your hand to me and let you feel my breasts.” You reach your hand under your shirt, lightly gliding it up to your breast. You squeeze, moaning quietly. “They’re so soft and warm.” You slide your fingers across one of your nipples.

“Dank farrik,” Din swears. “I wish I could bury my face in them.”

“Your face…” You moan. “Your face would feel best between my legs.” Your hand moves down to the slit between your legs. “Much better than my fingers.” You tease your clit with your index finger.

“Are you-Are you touching yourself while talking to me, cyar’ika?” he questions, as if oblivious to what you’ve been doing.

“Mmm,” you moan, closing your eyes and tilting your head back. “I wish your tongue was swirling around my clit.”

“Fuck. I miss the taste of you.”

“My fingers are much smaller than yours.” You moan as you slip two fingers inside of yourself. “They don’t fill my pussy nearly as much as yours.” 

“F-fuck,” Din utters quietly. “I wish I could see you right now. Feel you.”

“Oh, Din,” you moan. “Mmm, fuck.” You rapidly move your fingers in and out of your hole, your palm rubbing against your clit. “Maker, I’m so wet. Can you hear the sound my pussy is making for you?”

He growls. “You’re making me so fucking hard. I can barely think.” The satisfaction of what you’re doing to him makes you smile before biting your lip.

You remove your fingers and move them up to your clit, the wetness allowing them to swirly smoothly around your throbbing ball. You can feel your muscles tighten, a warmth burning deep inside. “Maybe I should just cum for you.”

“No, don’t,” Din growls. “I don’t want you to cum alone.”

You stop moving for a moment, feeling as though you’re close to the end. “You think you can tell me what to do?” you question, breathing long, slow breaths to keep you grounded. “You’re not here to stop me.” You tease yourself, grazing your finger past your clit over and over. “Oh, fuck, Din, I wish you were here. Oh, Maker, I want to cum with you inside me. I want to feel my pussy wrap around your cock.”

“Wait for me,” Din commands, sounding exasperated. “I’ll be back to finish you as soon as I can. I-I can come back now. Fuck the quarry.”

You continue to tease yourself. Your fingers swirl, and several times, you take yourself right to the edge but stop before you can take the leap into the sea of ecstasy. “No, you won’t make it. I need to cum now, Din. I need it.”

“Wait. For. Me.”

“I-I can’t. I _need_ to cum now, Din. You can’t make me wait.”

“Dank farrik.” You hear his fist pound against something, you’re not sure what. “You cum now and I may not let you cum later as I fuck that pretty little pussy of yours.”

The thought of him fucking you causes the burning to intensify. You sit still for a moment, eyes closed, trying to hold your breath. You can’t hold back anymore. “Do what you want to me.” You viciously swirl your fingers around your clit. It only takes a second, two at the most, before you’re riding the wave to orgasm. “Oh, Din! _Please come fuck me_!” You arch your back and scream at the top of your lungs, the only other inhabitant on the ship encased in carbonite, no one beyond Din able to hear you. You bring a pillow to your mouth and bite, crying into it.

You let go of the comlink as your muscles relax. You stare up at the ceiling, laying half naked on the bed, and run your fingers through your hair, pushing it out of your face as you breath rapidly. You’d almost forgotten about the comlink beside you until you hear Din’s voice growl, “Tonight,” causing you to close your eyes and smile in satisfaction.

\--

Morning turns into afternoon which turns into night. You spend the day waiting patiently for Din, passing the time by playing a card game in solitude then tinkering with the ship then practicing your aim with a blaster outside. By nightfall, you find yourself getting sleepy and figure you better rest so you could spend some time with Din should he return soon.

You rouse from your nap when you hear someone entering the ship from the level below. You push yourself out of bed and head to the refresher, where you quickly tidy yourself. Satisfied, you walk down the corridor and press the button for the lifttube, intending to meet Din downstairs. When the door opens, a metal-clad figure is standing there, causing you to jump backwards.

“I thought I told you to wait for me,” Din snarls as he steps out of the lifttub, backing you against the wall. His helmet is still on, his voice altered. He’s standing within inches of you.

You stare straight into his visor with sweet, puppy dog eyes. “I’m sorry, Din.” Your voice is seductive. “What can I do to make it up to you?” You bite your lip.

He’s silent for a moment, giving you an intense stare down from behind his helmet. “Bedroom. Now,” he commands, pointing in the direction of your quarters.

You give a tantalizing smile as you slip away from him and move down the corridor to the bedroom. You strut, allowing your hips to swing. He follows behind. The door closes behind him and you turn to look at him, waiting for further instructions.

“Take it off,” he commands. As you stand still, he adds, “Or I will.”

You’re already so wet for him. Him in his armor, his voice, telling you what to do… You try not to show it, but he’s killing you. Obeying, you grip the bottom of your shirt and raise it over your head then toss it to the side. Your nipples harden as they meet the stale air of the ship.

You gaze at him for a moment. He is leaning with his arm against a wall, one hand on his belt, watching as you undress. You hook your thumbs into the waistline of your pants and pull them down, allowing them to drop to your ankles. You step out of them. Your body is on full display. Din is fixated on you but doesn’t move.

“Good girl. On the bed.” He nods his head forward, gesturing toward where he wants you to go.

You backup to the bed and lower yourself onto the edge, then pull yourself backwards fully onto it, keeping your legs closed. You wait for him to move or give you more instructions.

“Now show me what you did to yourself.”

You stare at him, opting not to obey him that easily because you’d much rather feel him now that he is here. “I’m not sure I can do it as good as you.”

“Show me,” he growls, standing straight and folding his arms. “Show me how you made yourself cum.”

Fuck. His modulated voice makes you so wet, but you try not to show it. You won’t give him the satisfaction of him knowing what he does to you, how he makes you feel. Instead, you reach a hand up to your breast, as you had done earlier that day. You caress your nipple with your thumb, feeling it grow even harder under your fingertip. Your hand slides down your body and meets your clit. You stroke it for several seconds before you move your fingers to you hole.

“Good girl,” Din praises. He unclips his belt and removes it along with his shoulder harness. “Don’t stop.”

“What if I want to cum?” you question, feeling your fingers move in and out of yourself. You feel warm as blood circulates to your clit and pools there, swelling.

“Don’t.” He slowly removes his helmet and lays it on the slim dresser beside him, not breaking his gaze as he does so. His eyes are hungry with desire, but he shows restraint. You lay there, touching yourself, your fingers wet with your warm juices. He begins to strip himself of his armor, doing so slowly, efficiently, almost religiously.

“You want to learn Mando’a, right?” he questions evenly as he removes his gloves. There’s a word I want you to remember. Gedet’ye.”

“G-gedet’ye,” you repeat slowly, your voice quivering.

“Good. It means ‘please.’ When you can’t take it anymore, say the word. Understood?”

You nod, concentrating on the sensations you’re giving yourself.

“Say it,” he instructs. “I want to hear your voice.”

“Y-yes. I understand.”

“Good.”

Din removes his clothes, revealing his tanned skin, tight over the muscles beneath. Your eyes immediately drop to his erection, hard, thick, and jutting toward you. He grabs himself as he notices you looking at it.

“I’m looking forward to feeling you around me,” Din says, slowly stroking himself. “I’ve been looking forward to burying myself in your slick pussy all day.”

“Fuck me then,” you pant. You can feel your juices run down yourself, falling onto the sheets.

“No, not yet.” Din joins you on the bed. He leans on one elbow as he lays beside you, his body inches from yours.

You reach up with your free hand to touch his face, but he grabs your wrist. His touch, so warm against your skin, causes you to tremble. “Don’t stop.” He takes your hand and guides it to your breast, where he leaves it laying, his arm retreating to his side. You grab a fistful of your own breast as you slowly swirl your fingers around your clit.

“Din, please.” You arch your back, trying to squirm closer to him, causing him to chuckle. He’s loving every minute of this, you desperately needing him, him being in control.

“Please what, cyar’ika?”

“Please fuck me,” you whine. “I’m not sure how much longer I can wait.”

“You’ll wait as long as I tell you to,” Din replies. “And this time, I’m here to make sure you do what I say.”

“Fuck, Din,” you cry out. “I’m sorry.”

“What do you think you did to me this morning?” Din asks. “Hm? You talking to me as you fucked yourself, me unable to do anything to you…or myself.”

“I’m so sorry,” you whine. The memory of this morning only makes it harder not to finish yourself. “Fuck, Din, I feel so close. I think I might-”

“No.” Din grabs your hand and moves it away from your clit. You whimper in frustration. “I’m not done with you yet.” He teases you with a soft kiss on your lips, one that quickly turns hot. His tongue plunges in and out of your mouth. He lets go of your wrist, but you don’t go back to touching yourself, opting to feel the pleasure he’s giving you instead. You feel the heat burning inside of you as his fingers trace up and down your neck before stroking down to the tops of your breasts.

“These breasts are beautiful.” He circles each breast, your nipples hard and aching for his touch. He draws the closest nipple into his mouth, his tongue wet and hot as it circles the tip. Unexpectedly, his teeth close around it, nipping gently. You gasp, the sensation just barely short of pain, sending a jolt of pleasure to your core.

Next, he presses his mouth to your stomach, nibbling and kissing as you squirm under his touch, his breath hot on your skin. A hand runs up and down your leg, massaging the underside of your thighs. Your heart pounds against your chest. His finger touches the crease between your leg and pubic area. A moan escapes your lips as he plays with the tender area. He grazes your clit and your core burns to the point it’s almost painful. You feel you could explode.

“Please,” you whisper. “P-please.”

“Do you deserve it?” Din asks.

“Yes.”

He climbs on top of you, his body hovering over yours, his face close to yours. “Soon, my good girl. But not yet.”

You cry out, turning your head and grabbing a fistful of your hair as you slam your other fist down onto the mattress in frustration.

“Look at me.” He grabs your chin and pulls you to lock eyes. He lets go, then reaches down and grabs his cock, moving it up and down your wetness, setting off tiny spasms inside of you as the merciless touching continues. He touches your outside opening, acting as if he’s going to put himself inside, then slides up your folds to your swollen clit. You struggle for breath as the sensations spread to your whole core, everything burning with need.

“D-Din,” you whimper. You’re trembling beneath his touch. “I-I can’t anymore. Please.”

His face nears your ear. “What was the word I told you to remember?”

“I-I… Fuck, Din, I don’t remember.”

“Tell me,” he growls.

“I can’t think, Din.” You’re so frustrated you’re near tears.

“Think hard. Use that pretty head of yours.”

“Ged…Gedye…” You’re panting and whining, trying to think.

“Almost… Come on. Come on…”

“Ged-Gedet’ye.”

“Good girl,” he whispers. He pulls back, kissing your breast before pulling his body up, kneeling between your legs. He grabs your waist and lifts your hips, pulling you close to him. He places his thumb on your clit as he guides himself into you and drives his cock deep into you in one hard surge. His thumb circles your spot as he thrusts into you. Your hands squeeze the sheets, finally getting the release you seek. You scream as you spasm around his thickness, shuddering hard until your body is weak.

As you come to, you reach under his arms and pull him down by the shoulders, his body close to yours. As he thrusts, you dig your fingers into his back. Your breathing is fast, broken by tiny whimpers. You tilt your hips forward. He adjusts himself so that with every stroke, every movement, he brushes against your clit. He pumps hard, increasing the pace and force of his thrusts. Each thrust sends stabs of pleasure throughout your body. You pussy tightens again, your fingers deep into his back. You scream as you cum harder than before, spasms shooting through you like lightning. Immediately after you finish, his thrusting becomes erratic as he fills you.

Drained, he lays his head onto your shoulder and nuzzles you. You close your eyes, trying to catch your breath and rebuild your brain. He, meanwhile, is likely relishing the twitches of your pussy around him. After a minute, he gently pulls out of you and pushes himself off you, rolling to the side. 

“Fuck, Din,” you pant, hand on your forehead as you try to analyze what just happened. “You’re going to kill me.”

“That’s not my intention, unless you have some sort of bounty out on you.”

You chuckle. “Ah, maybe I’m a ruthless killer. Unfortunately, you won’t know until after I’ve killed you.” You let out a breath, then roll over to him, laying a hand on his chest. “I think…I think you just set a bad precedent.”

“Mmm? How?”

“If that’s what happens when I don’t listen, I may never listen to you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on my Tumblr, theewokingdead, for updates.
> 
> I decided to work on three chapters at once, so the next chapter or two will be posted before you know it. Some romance is ahead!


	4. Cabuor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cabuor - _[kah-BOO- or]_ \- Protect
> 
> Din and you continue to travel through the galaxy, but an incident causes him to reconsider whether this life is right for you...and him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: A brief scene of sexual assault. Nothing graphic, but it's there, and I want everyone to feel safe. It happens immediately after the casino if you wish to skip past.

Trips to Nevarro to collect rewards and pucks. More quarries. More stops on mostly desolate planets. Boredom and loneliness as you look for things to occupy yourself while waiting for Din. Yearning for him and his touch. It’s all you know. But as long as he returns to you at the end of a hunt, you don’t complain. It’s not always comfortable, not always enjoyable, but it’s the adventure you always dreamed of as a kid. Not to mention you’re traveling with a man who you love with the intensity of Tatooine’s twin suns.

You’re happiest when Din finishes a hunt, when the two of you can just relax and enjoy one another’s company while the ship hurdles itself through space. You two have found plenty of ways to pass the time. Recently, you offered to teach him to play sabacc while he tries to teach you Mando’a. He uses the numbers on the cards to help you learn to count – solus, one, t’ad, two, ehn, three, cuir, four, rayshe’a, five, resol, six, e’tad, seven, she’ehn, eight, she’cu, nine, ta’raysh, ten – Maker. You see yourself as a pretty good sabacc player but trying to count in a different language adds a whole new level of difficulty to the game.

“Haar’chak!” Din swears as he slams his cards down on the galley table. _Damn it_.

You cackle and reach out to collect the cards. He’s a sore loser, and you love it. It feels kind of good to better than him at something for once. “How would you say, ‘Suck it up’ in Mando’a?” Your look up at him as you gather the cards into a pile.

He glares at you but remains silent, his arms folded in front of him, sulking.

“C’mon, Din, I can’t learn if you don’t teach me.” While waiting for his response, you split the deck into two piles, taking one in each hand and riffling the cards.

He sighs. “K’atini…” Din reluctantly replies, his tone tart.

“Well, then, k’atini.” You giggle as you bend the cards towards you and allow them to cascade into a neat stack.

“What’s your secret?” Din asks simply. He leans back in his chair and props his feet on the table, anchoring his attention on you.

“Secret?” you question, blinking with feigned innocence. “I don’t have any secrets.” You set the deck down and look up at him. “Peli could tell you that I was the best amongst the mechanics in Mos Eisley.”

“Where’d you learn?”

“My father taught me when I was young,” you respond, remembering the times you’d sit at the kitchen table of your childhood home, your father helping you learn all the suits, the face cards, the pairs, their values. Through the eyes of a child, you never knew he had a gambling problem. “He spent a lot of nights trying to gamble our profits away. Nearly lost the entire farm on a high-stake game once. Fortunately, luck seems to run in my family.”

“You call this luck?” he scoffs. “A novice playing an expert. I call it unfair.”

You chuckle. “No fairer than when we do target practice together.” You take the deck of cards back into your hand. “How about another round? Winner can fuck me. Maybe I’ll let you win.” You wink.

He places his feet back onto the floor and gestures for you to hand him the deck. “I think I can win without your help.”

“Cocky. I like that.” You chortle and hand him the cards.

Din hands out the cards, two apiece. He scowls as he looks at what he’s given himself. “You know, I don’t think you’ve ever told me your favorite color.”

“You’ve never asked,” you respond, reaching for a third card.

“Tell me.”

You’re surprised he would bring up something so simple, so random. You don’t question him. Instead, you reach for a fourth card, saying, “Easy. It’s-”

“In Mando’a,” he interrupts. You freeze, and whatever look you have on your face causes him to laugh and ask, “Not as easy as you thought, is it?”

You unfreeze, adding the fourth card to your hand. “What if I just say the first word that I remember?” you question, smiling slyly. “You’ll never know if it’s right or not.”

He shrugs. “Then I will spend the rest of our lives thinking you like a random color and our lives will be based on a lie.”

“I forgot that the foundation of a relationship is the woman’s favorite color.” You add a fifth card to your hand. “Maker forbid you ever find out I lied and everything crumbles.” You pretend to study what’s in your hand while running through the list of Mando’a colors in your head, trying to remember them.

“Kebiin,” you eventually respond, relaxing the hand holding your cards while motioning for him to draw or stand.

“Blue?” he questions as he reaches for a card from the deck.

“Yes. Blue,” you confirm. “Like the sky on a clear afternoon. Or like oceans, rivers, lakes. I always dreamed of seeing them as a kid. Did you know I’ve never even seen a waterfall before?”

“You mean the desert planet you call home doesn’t have secret underground waterfalls? Shocking.” He smiles faintly, focused on what he’s doing.

“Oh, yeah, plenty. I’ve just never seen them,” you reply sarcastically. “What about you? Do you have a favorite color or are you opposed to them all?”

“Ge’tal,” he responds simply, rearranging his cards as he studies them.

“Red, right?” you question. “What? Like the blood of your enemies?”

He chuckles and motions for you to place a bet. “Not a bad guess, but no.” His face relaxes as he places his cards face down on the table and folds his arms. “I just…I don’t know.”

“What is it?” you ask, curious as you throw out makeshift coins you’ve been using for wagering. “Tell me.”

He follows your bet, throwing out currency before hugging his arm against his chest plate again. “I guess it reminds me of my childhood. Of Aq Vetina. Red was the color of the clothing we typically wore, and, I don’t know, I guess it’s comforting.”

You look at him, your eyes soft, a mixture of shock and compassion filling you. You did not expect that sort of reasoning. “Oh. That…that’s sweet.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, well… Anyway…” He picks up his cards and looks at them before flipping them right-side-up onto the table, allowing you to see them. “It’s also the color your face will be tonight when I fuck you.”

You look down at them and count, seeing that they equal to negative twenty-three. “Huh. Wow. What luck,” you say, your eyes wide. He smiles self-assuredly. You’re impressed that he managed to get the number and almost feel bad for taking him down. “Too bad my Idiot’s Array trumps that.” You lay your cards down, revealing the highly uncommon play.

The smile disappears from his face and turns into a look of confusion as he looks down at your cards. “What? I think you’re just making shit up at this point.”

You laugh. “No. Look. An Idiot’s Array is when you get an Idiot card,” you inform him, pointing to the card with a zero on it, “along with a two and a three from any suit. See. Zero, two, three. Twenty-three.”

“Dank farrik!” He swipes his hand across the table, causing the cards to go flying and sending you into a fit of laughter.

“K’atini, Din,” you say between laughs.

“K’atini,” he mocks in a high-pitched voice as he shakes his head, folds his arms, and props his feet up once more. “You’ll be sucking something later if you don’t quit.”

You try to stifle your laughter, not wanting to upset him more, but also finding it hilarious that he keeps getting so upset over a simple, harmless game. “Mhm, we’ll see about that,” you say, calming down. “You suck at sabacc now, but maybe you can suck at my clit later.”

You stare at him and purse your lips, then slowly rise from you chair. Din shuffles from his seat and, before you can lower yourself to the floor to clean, he grabs your forearm. Quickly, he spins you around, his lips meeting yours before you can speak. Lips still attached to yours, he pivots your body, backing you into the table. Carefully, you lift yourself onto it, sitting on the edge and opening your legs as you pull him close to you.

“Why wait until later?” he whispers near your ear, causing you to throw your head back and moan. He kisses and nibbles your neck. He undoes your pant, and as he starts to pull them down, he sinks to his knees, kissing down one leg.

Once your bottoms are off, he kisses back up the other leg, up to your thighs. He gets to the crease where your leg meets the rest of your body and you’re all but begging for it. His hands curl around your hips as his head dips, his tongue finally licking into your folds. You moan as his tongue finds your clit, moving over and around in teasing little flicks, your breath stopping with each tiny touch. You wrap your legs around him and arch your hip into him, indicating that you want more. He presses into you, his tongue stroking soft, then hard. He slips a finger into you, in and out, one finger then two. You pant in little breathes. His mouth closes over your clit and he sucks as he continues to plunge his fingers in and out. The twin assaults have your body shaking with need. You put your hand on the back of his head and push him into you. You scream. Your body spasms, your insides convulsing around his invading fingers, your hips jerking uncontrollably.

You lean back, spent, and watch Din as he rises from the floor. He’s staring at you, his eyes filled with desires as he undoes his pants just enough to release his cock. He grabs your hips and pulls you closer to him. You cry out and throw your head back in surprise, arching your back as he plunges himself into your still sensitive slit. He holds you, one hand on your waist another on your thigh as he thrusts. You raise your torso and wrap your arms around his neck, legs wrapping tighter around him as you clutch onto his shirt. You bring your mouth to his, massaging his tongue with yours, before unlocking lips and resting your head against his. His thrusts get faster and his grip on your waist tightens, his cock jerking inside of you as he growls out a release.

“Fuck,” he utters between breaths. He leans forward, hands on either side of you as he uses the table for support. You plant a kiss on his neck before unwrapping your arms and falling back, propped up on your elbows.

You stare at him, watching as he pulls himself together. He stuffs his flaccid member back into his pants and collapses into his chair. You sit back up, slide off the table, and pick your pants up off the floor.

“You polished your armor recently, didn’t you?” you question, stepping into your clothes. He doesn’t respond. “I only ask because I could see the reflection of your cards in your armor.” You suck in your lips to stifle a laugh. He is glaring at you.

“Cheating will get you into trouble, cyar’ika,” he warns sternly.

“I wasn’t cheating.” You smile mischievously. “It was just a bonus. Besides, I don’t need to cheat.”

Once dressed, you drop to the floor to clean up the cards. Din, having recovered, comes down beside you and helps you clean up his discarded mess.

“Maybe I’ll let you put your sabacc skills to test after this next stop,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

“After this next job, I have a puck for quarry that’s hiding out on Cantonica,” he announces. “Near Canto Bight.”

“Canto Bight?” You stop what you’re doing and look at him, your voice filled with a mixture of surprise and excitement. You sit with your butt on your heels. The gambling, the card games, the races, the food. It’s something you’ve never thought a moisture farmer’s daughter would ever experience.

Din smiles as if he’s pleased to see you as giddy as a child. “I guess I don’t even have to ask if you want to go?”

“Would we have time for a little fun? Please, please, please!” You open your eyes wide and bat your eyelashes at him, your hands folded in from you of as you overdramatically beg him.

He chuckles. “I’m sure we can find time if it’s what you want.”

“Yes!” You throw your arms out and wrap yourself around him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

He laughs awkwardly, having never seen you so excited before. He embraces you for a moment. “We’re going to have to set a limit.”

“Of course,” you respond, pulling away from him then pushing a stand of lose hair behind your ear. “I’m not looking to bet away Fett’s ship.”

“You may as well cage yourself with a rancor,” Din responds.

You giggle. “I won’t lose a credit. Promise.” You’re brimming with excitement. “And if I do, you’ll just have to find a way to punish me.”

\--

To your dismay, Din’s been on hunt for several days. With each passing day, your excitement dwindles more and more, turning into a mixture of disappointment and boredom. You try to keep yourself busy, but time drags on.

It’s your third evening waiting. You’re several yards from the ship, practicing your shot with your blaster by shooting multiple empty cannisters lined up on a fallen log. Your shots haven’t been up to snuff and you’re irritated, but you keep going; it’s not in you to quit. Taking a deep breath, you grab ahold of the blaster in one hand, raise your arm to eye level, and pull the trigger, sending the first target backwards. You quickly shoot toward the second then then third then the fourth then the fifth.

“Dank farrik,” you utter in frustration, knowing it took eight shots to take down five targets. Your goal is to need only one shot each. You holster your pistol and move to pick up the canisters, carefully positioning them an equal distance apart along the log. Once satisfied, you move back to your position several yards away and turn to face your targets.

You close your eyes, remembering words of advice Din once gave you.

 _“Don’t rush your shots, but don’t overthink it. It’s not the first shot that wins the gunfight; it’s the most accurate,”_ he had said. You were good at shooting the same mark repeatedly, could hit dead center practically every time, which is why he urged you to expand your shooting skills. He was the one who suggested you move from a single target to shooting multiple at once, to see if you could one day take on a gunfight. _“It takes practice. You didn’t learn to shoot in a day, did you?”_ you remember him saying upon frustration when you weren’t immediately excelling. _“Breathe. Focus.”_

You open your eyes and smile faintly, remembering that day as if it was yesterday, though it was many months ago. You had been traveling on the Crest for less than a month, barely knew Din, Grogu still in tow. You remember the warmth you felt as Din stood near you that day, the two of you bonding over a common interest. Tingles spread throughout your body as you think about it. Maker, how things have changed since then.

You take a breath before slowly exhaling, bringing yourself to the present while trying to shake off your frustration. You tell yourself to take it a little slower this time, to focus on lining up each shot. Speed can come later, you know that. Don’t get ahead of yourself. You don’t have to knock all the targets over in rapid-fire session like Din can. _Stop comparing yourself to others_. Maybe one day you’ll be near his level, and it’s okay that today isn’t that day.

You plant your feet firmly on the ground, shoulder width apart. Gripping your pistol with your dominant hand, you stretch out your arm in front of you and bend your knees slightly, eyes focused on the scope on top of the thin, black barrel. _You got this._ You count down in your head. _Three. Two. One_. You don’t pull the trigger. Instead, you hang your head and laugh to yourself, imagining Din telling you to count in Mando’a. _Get it together._ You reposition yourself and count again. _Ehn. T’ad. Sols._

You pull the trigger, knocking over the first target before moving to the next, then the next one, and the next one, knocking each cannister to the forest floor, one shot each. You’ve done it. A satisfied smile appears across your face as you remove your finger from the trigger and relax your arm, staring at the empty log.

“Not bad.”

You turn quickly and move to raise your blaster. Fortunately, your brain quickly processes that it’s just Din’s modulated voice coming from behind you, so you don’t engage your weapon. You’re relieved that it’s him, that he’s finally back. Near him is his Rodian quarry, hands cuffed in front of him, his long green fingers in fists.

“You probably shouldn’t sneak up on me when I’m armed,” you inform him as you holster your gun.

“Maybe you should be more aware of your surroundings, cyar’ika,” Din warns. “Wouldn’t want someone to catch you from behind.”

You have a response in mind, but before you can say it, the Rodian says something you don’t understand in his native tongue. He, you assume, gawks at you, though it’s difficult to tell, his eyes large and pupil-less. Din smacks him in the head with his blaster as he utters something back. Though you don’t understand the Rodian language, you can tell Din’s tone is seething.

“What did he say?” you question, brows furrowed in confusion as you watch the two of them walk toward the ship. You’re certain he said something about you.

“Nothing your ears should have to hear,” he responds gruffly. “Can you set the coordinates while I take care of him?”

“Yeah, sure,” you reply, watching as Din pokes his weapon into the quarry’s back, causing him to move forward. A mixture of confusion toward what the quarry said to piss him off and excitement as you realize you’re headed to Cantonica floods you.

\--

You head down to the second level to find Din after you’ve thrown the ship into hyperspace, the coordinates set for Cantonica. Approaching your quarters, you hear the shower running, leading you to take off your clothes and slip in with him, as you tend to do. Sometimes he’s so tired after a hunt that the only time you can spend with him before he passes out is in the refresher. Plus, this ship boasts a larger shower with warmer water, and you never pass up an opportunity to use it.

When you enter the room, Din is standing with his arm against the wall, letting the water fall down his back. As you step in behind him, he doesn’t look up. Tenderly, you wrap your arms under his and pull yourself close to him, resting a cheek against his skin as the warm water flows down your shoulder and arm.

“Are you okay?” you question, holding him.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he responds simply. “Just…tired.”

You know him better than that. You easily see through his lie. “Are you sure you’re not in a mood over whatever it was the Rodian said?”

He’s silent.

“What was it?” you question, lightly rubbing his chest. “You can tell me.”

He raises his head and shifts his body just enough so that the water isn’t falling down his face. “Something about you that wasn’t called for.”

“Yeah, I figured as much,” you respond before kissing his shoulder. “Don’t let it get to you. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve had something said about me.”

He sighs. “I don’t like it. Even more, I don’t like when quarries see you. You shouldn’t be put in that sort of danger.”

“You worry too much,” you respond. “I can handle myself. You know, maybe one day I’ll be as feared as you.”

He makes a sound that almost sounds like a laugh before responding. He unwraps you from him and turns to look at you. “Even then, I’d still worry about you. You know I just want you to be safe.”

You reach up and caress his cheek, wicking away beads of water while stroking his course, patchy hair. “I’ll be fine. Especially with a big, strong man around,” you assure him. “Know where I can find one?”

He smiles, grabs your wrist, and kisses the palm of your hand before letting go and turning back around. You grab the soap from the little shelf behind you and lather up.

“Will you play with me?” you question, rubbing his back with a soapy hand.

“Now?” he questions, looking at you over his shoulder.

You laugh. “No. I mean at the casino.”

“In front of everyone? If that’s what you’re into…”

“Din!” You playfully slap his shoulder with the back of your hand. “I mean will you gamble with me?”

He chuckles lowly. “I don’t know. If you think I’m bad a sabacc now…”

“You’re not _that_ bad. Besides, it’s not about winning. It’s about having fun. C’mon, you need to let loose.” You want nothing more than for him to take a day to just relax and have fun with you, to worry about nothing, not even about money as you spend it frivolously. Just one day.

“Work first, play later,” Din responds simply. “You can go on without me if you want, and I’ll find you when I’m finished. This job shouldn’t take me long.”

“It won’t be nearly as fun without you,” you respond.

“I’d be a bigger hindrance than a benefit. A distraction.”

“Oh, how the holotables have turned,” you joke, knowing that you’re usually the one that gets in the way and causes distractions.

He turns and faces you once more. He kisses you, deeply, tongue in mouth as he raises a hand to the back of your neck. His other hand reaches up and grabs your breast. You withdraw at his touch there, feeling tender for whatever reason. Carefully, you grab his hand and redirect him to below, craving his touch elsewhere.

\--

Later that evening, the two of you are lying in bed, your head on Din’s shoulder, his cheek resting against your head as he lightly runs his fingers through your damp hair. Your mind drifts back to the memories you were thinking of earlier that day, of the days when you first started experiencing feelings for Din. 

“Do you know what I’ve been thinking about today?” you ask, your voice groggy. You pull you head back enough to look up at him. His eyes are closed, but he’s listening. You’ve nearly fallen asleep lying with him and wonder how he hasn’t passed out yet. You question if you should just let him sleep instead of keeping him awake with silly conversation.

“Hm?”

You lay your head back onto him and slowly trace circles on his bare chest with your fingertips. “I’ve been thinking about Batuu. The time you talked me into sharpening my shooting skills. Do you remember?”

“Mhm,” he responds. “It was the first time I saw you use your blaster. I was surprised that you knew how to use it” He chuckles. “Peli said you knew how to use a gun, but I didn’t think it meant you actually _knew_ how to shoot.”

“I understand,” you giggle, knowing Peli all too well. Sometimes she can exaggerate things, so you understand why he was leery of whatever she told him about you before she introduced you to him.

“I knew you could learn to do more, and I was eager to teach you. By the look of it, I didn’t do too bad of a job, right?”

You smile. You think about how Din brushed against you and cupped your hand as he taught you how to better grip and aim your gun. You had hoped, at the time, that he couldn’t see the goosebumps forming on your skin. You had wished you could feel his breath on your neck, wondered what his voice sounded like unmodulated, speculated what he even looked like under all that Beskar.

“What is it, cyar’ika?” he asks after your lack of response.

His question knocks you back to the present moment. “It’s just…” You laugh to yourself. “I developed a bit of a crush on you that day, I guess.” Your cheeks glow warm. Thinking about it, it sounds so ridiculous. It’s obvious now that you were infatuated with him – you still are - but it seems strange to admit how long ago you started to have feelings for him.

“Oh yeah?” The tone in his voice demonstrates his peaked curiosity.

You scoot off him, lying on your side beside him. He rolls toward you, propped up on his elbow.

“It was the most you talked to me in the weeks I had known you,” you respond. “And the way you talked about shooting, the amount of knowledge you possessed… It was kind of attractive to hear you speak so passionately about something. I realized you may be a sentient being under all that metal after all.” You smile before biting your lower lip and looking down, feeling slightly embarrassed. “Then when you stood behind me and helped me with my stance… Feeling your gloved hand on my skin, hearing you breathe so close to my ear… There was nothing inherently sexual about it, I know, I just…I don’t know. It’s silly.”

Din chuckles softly. “I felt something that day too, cyar’ika.”

You look back up at him, relieved that he felt feelings when you did.

“I was impressed by your skill. Excited you were willing to work on bettering yourself. Plus, seeing you frustrated when you didn’t hit a target… It’s scarily sexy when you’re angry.” You both chuckle as he reaches up and plays with a strand of your hair hanging over your shoulder. “The smell of your hair permeated my helmet. It was intoxicating yet calming. And I wondered what your skin felt like.” The back of his finger grazes your shoulder, sending a warm chill down you. “After that day, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Couldn’t stop wanting to be near you.”

“Did you ever…?” You start to ask, but trail off, blushing while looking toward his hips, which is covered by a sheet. Neither of you had cared to dress after the shower, covered now only by the bedding.

“Did I ever…what?” he questions, as if not understanding what you’re asking.

“Think about me while…alone?” You look back up at him and bite your lip, curious as to whether he ever thought about you in that way before the two of you first made love. It’s a very personal question, you know, but you also know there’s no secrecy between the two of you anymore.

He chuckles and looks down at the mattress.

A smile slowly appears on your face. “You did, didn’t you?” His face glows red as he lets out a laugh. You find it more arousing than weird, knowing you gave him feelings and urges he couldn’t contain. “Admit it!”

He shrugs, smiling. “My creed didn’t include a vow of abstinence.”

“Din! You pervert!” You gently slap his arm, pretending to be shocked and disgusted while also trying to hide your laughter.

“Oh, _I’m_ the pervert. Need I remind you of Felucia? ‘Oh, Din, I’m so wet for you. I wish it were your fingers in me instead of mine,’” he mocks, laughing as he teases you.

“That’s completely different!” you reply between giggles.

His penetrating gaze probes your face. “You’re really going to tell me you never once touched yourself while thinking about me?”

You don’t respond, only suck in your lips, trying to stifle your laughter. Obviously, you did. There were times he made you feral, even if he didn’t know it. You had so often fantasized fucking him on the Crest. But you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of admitting it. You hide your face in your hand, regretting ever asking now that the tables have turned on you.

He doesn’t relent. “There were times when you spent an awfully long time in the refresher for someone who complained about how small and cold it was.”

You know he knows, but you still deny it. You remove your hand and look at him, ready to deny like your life depends on it. “Because it takes time to wash my hair!”

“Oh, cut the phobium, cyar’ika. You’ve been busted and you know it. Now tell me.”

Your lips are still sealed shut. You bury your face in the pillow, shielding your glowing red face from him.

“Alright, I’m just going to have to make you tell me then.”

“Din!” you squeal as throws the sheet off your body then flips you over on the bed so you’re facing away from him. He wraps his arms around you, one beneath you and one over you. He pulls you into him and tickles you with his long fingers. He quickly finds a sensitive ticklish spot near your hip bone.

“Tell me!” he teasingly orders.

“No, never!” You lose control over your body as you instinctively wiggle and try to slither out of his grasp. You can barely breathe between fits of giggles. Tears run down your cheeks from the laughter. “Okay! I’ll tell you! Stop! Stop!”

His tickles immediately come to a halt. He chuckles as he tugs you against him and lays his arm on your waist. He rests his forehead against the back of your head, his nose nuzzling your hair while you try to catch your breath. After a minute or two, you finally say, “Okay. Maybe one time.”

Your response causes him to snicker. You feel his face untangle from your hair as he raises his head. He plants a soft, wet kiss on the base of your neck, causing you to stretch it out, revealing more skin for him to explore. Slowly, he kisses up to your ear, where he seductively whispers, “Liar,” sending shivers down your spine.

You arch your back, pushing your ass into him, touching his hardening member. You moan in your throat as he kisses back down your neck, your nerve endings exploding. His hot breath on your skin between kisses makes you tingle. As he does this, you feel his hand move towards your bare legs. You adjust your legs just enough for him to reach in between them, where he lightly strokes your clit.

Once his lips are back at the bottom of your neck, he carefully sucks on your skin for several seconds before kissing some more. This combined with his strokes makes you so wet you can barely stand it. You feel as his hand runs down your pussy and his fingers enter you, filling you momentarily before retreating, taking some of your slickness with them. He swirls his wet fingers around your clit.

“You touched yourself while thinking of me, didn’t you?” he interrogates, running his nose along your neck. “Tell me.”

You give in easily, melting beneath his touch. “Yes,” you moan.

“Wondering what was beneath all that Beskar,” he continues. “Wishing I’d take you into my lap so you could ride my cock dry.”

“F-fuck. Yes.”

“You don’t know how often I thought of it too. Of bending you over my bed and fucking you. Squeezing that tight little ass of yours as you came around my cock.” He pushes himself against you, his cock throbbing against your bare ass.

You whimper, trying to pull your hips away from him. Blood is thumping in your heard and stomach. You’re quivering all over, trembling with desire, but you don’t want to finish just yet. “Stop Din or you’re going to make me-”

“Cum, cyar’ika,” he commands. You obediently push your hips back into him as he rubs tiny, tight circles. “Cum on my hand like you’d make me do to myself.”

You surrender, gripping as hard as you can onto the pillow your head is resting on as you feel yourself erupting, exploding. You pull the pillow to your face and scream into it, the pleasure a welcome relief.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his hand moving to your hip as your muscles relax.

You feel his cock twitch against you once more. You turn your head, look him in the eyes, and, while panting, say, “I want to fuck you.” He kisses you as you bend your knees and raise one slightly. You break away from his mouth, then reach between your legs and find his cock, hard and throbbing for you. Carefully, you guide him into you. He moans in satisfaction. You remove your hand and slowly move your hips, his hand squeezing into your skin as you grind against him. He kisses down your neck once more, alternating between nibbling and sucking it.

“Shit. Fuck. You feel so good, cyar’ika.” He lays his head down, relishing your rhythmic movements. “You make it hard to not want to fuck _you_.”

“Do it.” You look at him over your shoulder, slowing your movements. “Fuck me.”

He hooks his arm under your leg and pushes it up, spreading you wider then begins to thrust. His hand reaches for your breast. Unlike in the shower, you welcome his touch there now. He lightly cups you as he lunges into you.

“I love you,” you pant.

“Fuck. I-I love you too.” He groans between gritted teeth, thrusting several more times before finishing. He removes himself from inside you and moves his arm, allowing your leg to drop. He lays with one hand on your waist, another bent under his head. You scoot back into him and the two of you drift off to sleep, exposed but feeling so secure.

\--

You land the following morning and escort Din out of the ship, excited to see the city. Canto Bight. Playground to the most glamorous beings in the galaxy.

The sky is orange from the just-rising sun. The light reflects off the casinos, resorts, and racetracks above, but the city is quiet, probably still recovering from the previous night’s activities.

Din hands you an agreed upon amount of credits, plus a little extra. “I don’t know how long I’ll be. If you go to the casino, you’ll need to look the part. Buy yourself something that will look nice on the floor later.” You blush as he puts his helmet on. “And be careful. Do not leave the ship without your comlink, okay?”

You nod, showing you understand. “Alright.”

“Swear to me you’ll be careful.”

You grab the sides of his helmet and pull him toward you, planting a kiss on the cold metal. “Go do your job, Mando,” you tease. You wipe away the blemish your lips left behind. “Don’t worry about me.”

\--

You put on a dress that you purchased in the city earlier that day. You’ve never owned something like this before. A black halter dress made of a soft, silky fabric that crosses just below your neck, leaving your shoulders and small space between your breasts exposed. The skirt is flowy with a slit that goes high to your thigh, allowing your leg to be seen when you walk or stand just right. Your hair is sleek, pulled into a braided bun. Your skin has a glow to it, and you feel radiant. You feel powerful.

After admiring yourself in the mirror in the refresher, you grab the comlink from the dresser in your quarters and press the button. “Din?”

“I’m here, cyar’ika” his voice comes through the communicator.

“Will you be back soon?”

“I don’t know,” he responds. “I’m closing in but could be a few more hours.” You didn’t expect that he would be back, but that small sliver of hope that you held dissipates, leaving you disappointed. “Don’t wait for me. Go. Have a good time.”

“I’ll try to,” you respond.

He’s silent for a moment before saying, “Tell me what you’re wearing.”

You smile to yourself. You want to tell him, but also don’t want to spoil the surprise. “I don’t want to distract you.”

“Ke’rejorhaa’l,” Din growls. _Tell me._

You press the commlink close to your lips. Your voice is smooth, seductive. “Finish the job and come see for yourself.”

Biting your lip, you lay the device back on the dresser and turn to look at the chrono near the bed. It’s almost seven. You head back to the refresher for one last look over. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you can’t help but wish Din was beside you. You wonder what he would look like in formal wear, assuming you could get him out of that armor. You try to picture him wearing a perfectly fitted jacket, one that accentuates his broad shoulders and slim waistline, showcasing his masculinity. He would exude such power, such confidence that you would let him do whatever he wanted to you. You imagine that you wouldn’t even make it out of the ship let alone to the casino.

Satisfied with yourself, and somewhat distracted by your thoughts, you grab a handbag you had left laying on the sink while doing your hair. Then, you head out of the ship, where you hail a ride to the casino, not realizing that you didn’t grab the communicator.

\--

The city transforms at night, the streets alive with celebutantes who move with a casual lack of purpose, as if none of them have a reason to do something as common be in a hurry. The casino is packed, filled with a myriad of species, all with one thing in common: money. The fashion of the people moving around the large room is eye-catching and esoteric, everyone dressed in the most expensive black and white fabrics, their bodies adorned with the rarest of jewels. A band plays upbeat yet sophisticated music.

No one acknowledges you as you glide across the floor, everyone lost in the drinking and gambling and conversations. On the inside, you feel out of place, the thumping of your heart a constant reminder that you’re nervous. On the outside though, no one would know that you hailed from a farm on Tatooine, that you were once a mechanic, that you travel the galaxy on a modified patrol craft and slept in tight quarters on a rock hard bed with a bounty hunter. No. Tonight you are none of those things. You can be whoever you want. You can be royalty. Malachor, you _feel_ like royalty.

You walk to a bar on the other side of the room and order wine from the alien bartender. He hands you a tall, slim glass of bubbling liquid gold and you turn away, eyes scanning the room. You’re unsure what you want to do but opt not to stand alone long. Your eye catches several rows of slot machines. _Perfect_. They would allow you to keep to yourself and look busy while dipping your feet into the water before diving in.

After walking over to a machine, you take a sip from your glass and insert a cantocoin. No matches. You curse under your breath, inserting a coin again and again, barely winning more than a small amount here and there. You feel you may not be as lucky as you originally thought. You finish off your drink and grab another from a waiter droid before turning to find something else.

At the middle of the casino floor, you see a crowd playing a game of dice at an oval-shaped table. You join the spectators as lone participants toss a pair of dice from a cup, watching as the cubes roll across the table, swearing or cheering as they win or lose. Finally, you lay a stack of cantocoins down and take the cup. You shake it before spilling the dice. Everyone around you cheers, declaring you a winner. You feel an adrenaline rush, but place the cup down, opting to walk away in fear of losing the next toss.

“Blow on these for luck, darling.” You turn your head. An elderly tuxedoed man with a monocled eye is standing beside you, holding out the dice in the palm of his hand. You’re hesitant for a moment, then pucker your lips and blow softly. He places the dice in the cup and throws them. Winner! Everyone cheers, as do you.

A few hours pass. No sign of Din. You’re several glasses of wine deep, sitting at a card table, lost in a game of sabacc and casual conversation. After gaining some confidence doing other things, you are feeling apprehensive once more after losing several hands in a row. Maybe you are Tatooine good, but not quite Canto Bight good. These people have far more experience, more luck, more skill, more money to throw away.

You try not to falter, knowing one man has been bleeding everyone at the table dry all night, so it’s not just you. But when you lose once more, you throw your cards down in frustration. You consider following the others from getting up and moving elsewhere or calling it a night and returning to the ship. You push your chair away and stand.

“C’mon, darling, you can’t leave me here all alone. Play another round.” You stare at the man sitting across you. He has won far more hands than lost tonight, to the point you’re questioning whether he’s playing fairly. He is a fair bit older than you, his hair greasy and slicked back, the sides coming to a point on each cheek. Something about his icy blue eyes tells you he shouldn’t be trusted. You’ve lost far more than you wanted to and want to leave before you lose everything Din gave you, but you’re not one to quit, no matter how irritated you are.

“One more,” you respond, lowering your body back down into the chair. “But only if you buy me a drink.” You raise your empty glass.

He agrees, and the crowd of people that left the game return as an audience. A robot waiter brings you another drink, which you take graciously. You put up the ante for both the pots. And the dealer hands you two cards, which you carefully study. You’ve had so many drinks that your usual trick of counting cards is failing you. You can barely think straight let alone keep track of cards.

You take a couple more into your hand before signaling that you’ll stop there. You’re nearly confident you can win with what you have.

You bet carefully and safely at first, figuring you’re still there just to humor the man. Maybe he’d let you leave after this one game and you can leave without being too deep in the hole. He puts in a big bet and you wonder if he has something good or if he’s just bluffing. You can’t read him; his sabacc face is too good. He is, however, smiling smugly, and you want the satisfaction of wiping it off his face. The more he tries to charm you, the more annoyed you grow.

You feel the pressure to go all in during the final round of betting. Din will be angry if you lose everything, but you didn’t come here to play kids games. You throw in all your cantocoins, causing the crowd to chatter behind you. The man matches your bet, the amount a large portion of his mountain of coins.

Your heart is pounding as it’s time for the reveal. The man confidently lays his cards down, showing you his hand. “Twenty-two. What do you say to that, little lady?”

“Twenty-two?” you question. “That’s impressive.” The man appears cocky. “But not quite as good as twenty-three.” You lay your cards down, revealing a pure sabacc. You’ve not only won the main pot but the sabacc pot as well. A proud, clever grin appears across your face as the man looks shocked. The crowd lightly applauses the fact that someone has finally taken the greedy gambler down.

“Like taking clams from a Gungan,” you utter. You stand and collect your cantochips. “Here. For the drink.” You toss him a chip and walk away from the table.

You cash out and leave the casino, exiting to the warm night air of Canto Bight. You take a long, satisfied deep breath, inhaling the smell of the nearby trees and bushes as you hail a cab. You can’t believe you pulled that off. Din will be thrilled that you came out ahead. Stepping into the cab, you’re reeling, and you can’t wait to regale him with your tale. Hopefully he’s nearly back.

The cab drops you off close to the spaceport where Slave II is docked. Walking down an empty and dimly lit backstreet, the hair on the back of your neck is standing and you feel a chill. You swear you hear someone shuffling behind you. You stop and turn but see nothing. Trying to shake the feeling, figuring it was just the breeze kicking something down the street. As you walk, you open your clutch to find your comlink, wantint to tell Din where you are and to see if he’s nearly finished. You don’t see it and realize you haven’t seen it since last talking to him.

“Dank farrik,” you utter under your breath, knowing you must’ve left it sitting in your quarters on the ship.

Next thing you know, someone grabs your arm and yanks you into a dark alleyway between two closed shops. You’re thrown against the stone structure and pinned against the wall. In front of you, you make out the face of the man from the sabacc table.

“That was my money, you cheating bitch,” he sneers, his face too close to yours for comfort.

Your heart pounds rapidly against your chest. You can barely breathe, fear overwhelming you, but you try not to show it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You were counting cards.”

“I don’t know where you get your delusions, laserbrain, but I won that money fair and square,” you spat, your eyes narrowed to slits. “If anyone was cheating, it was you. Now let me go before you cause trouble.”

You try to push past him, but he puts his hand on the wall beside you, stopping you. “You’re not going anywhere just yet. Now listen, sweetheart, you’re so certain you won fairly, and I feel that money’s mine… Maybe there’s a way we can come to some sort of…agreement.” He runs a finger along the area between your breasts that’s exposed. You shudder at his touch.

“I’m not your sweetheart.” You raise your hand to remove his from your body, but he’s quicker in his movements than you are. He pins your arm against the wall and you’re too weak, too drunk to knock him away. He moves his face close to yours. You turn away, dodging him.

“You’re playing hard to get, but this dress…” He laughs deep in his throat, then whispers in your ear, “You’re fucking begging for it.”

“I’m not begging for anything.” You try to squirm away from him but can’t break free. Your head is swimming and you feel sluggish. Every inch of your body feels heavy, as if weighed down. It’s like you’re in a nightmare.

“You will be.”

The man wraps his hand under your chin, squeezing your cheeks as he forces you to look at him. He plants his lips on yours, kissing you roughly. You keep trying to get away from him, yelling, “Stop!” every time your mouth is free, but he’s far stronger. He lets go of your face and you can sense him reaching down and retrieving something from his pants. He takes the hand pinned against the wall and guides it down to below his waist, where he forces you to grab a hold of him, only half hard. You close your eyes, wishing you were anywhere else as he guides your hand up and down his length. You feel his other hand reach into the slit of your dress and glide up your thigh, inching closer to you.

Abruptly, you hear a single shot from a blaster. You feel the weight of the guy fall away from you and hear a thud as he collapses at your feet. You open your eyes and look in the direction of the blast. Standing there, several feet away from you, is your Beskar clad savior. His silhouette is illuminated by light spilling into the entrance of the alleyway.

“D-Din…” you whimper. Your body is trembling. You suddenly feel dizzy.

Din quickly holsters his weapon and runs to you, catching you before your body can hit the ground. “You’re safe now,” he whispers.

“I’m sorry,” you cry, grabbing onto the rough fabric wrapped around his shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. Come here. Let’s get you back to the ship.” He picks you up, one arm under your legs, another around your back, carrying you close and tight. 

You lay your head against him, feeling the metal against your skin. You’re sobbing, tears falling on him like rain. “Take me home. P-please.”

\--

Your head is throbbing, stomach churning, the taste of sick in your mouth. Your body aches as if you’ve been punched all over. You force your eyelids open and finally let the light in, squinting as you try to process where you are. The metal walls. The warm blanket covering your body. The familiar rock-hard mattress beneath you. The whirring of a ship as it hurtles through space. You realize you’re on Slave II.

You have no recollection on how you got there. Vaguely, you remember Din carrying you in the street, saying he was taking you back to the ship. Beyond that, you don’t know what happened. Your hair is not as you remembered, currently tied in a simple low ponytail, untamed and curly from the previous day’s braids. Somehow, at some point, you were stripped of your dress and put into your nightclothes. Did you get sick? Did Din help you shower before putting you to sleep? You speculate, but you can’t say for sure, your memory fuzzy.

Slowly, you turn over and sit yourself up on the edge of the bed. “Dank farrik,” you mutter, closing your eyes. You rest your elbows on your knees and lower you head into your hands, feeling a wave of nausea roll over you. 

You hear your name being spoken, causing you to quickly inhale and look up, having not heard him walk down the hallway. Despite having just woke up, you feel so tired that you fear your eyes may sag out as you look at Din. He is standing in the doorway, stripped of his armor, wearing only his flight suit. He’s holding a bowl in his hands, steam slowly rising from it.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You’re fine,” you mumble.

He enters the room timidly, as if nervous to approach you, as if you’d scurry away like some animal at the slightest sound. “Here, you should eat something.” He offers you the bowl, which you reluctantly yet graciously accept.

“Thank you.” You stare down at the cloudy, brown liquid inside and cringe, the mere sight and smell making your stomach roll. You don’t want to offend him, so you opt to try it. Carefully, you bring the dish to your lips and take a sip of its contents. The taste is mostly bland, just a hint of something meaty, as it should be. You place it on the nightstand, finding that you’d rather not risk putting something on your stomach right now.

“How…how are you feeling?” He sits on the bed, leaving space between your body and his.

“Like I was ran over by a speeder and somehow lived,” you respond groggily.

He reaches out and gently lays a hand on your knee, causing you to flinch. A surge of adrenaline causes your heart to skip a beat before pounding uncontrollably. He withdraws his hand immediately upon seeing your discomfort.

“I-I’m sorry.”

You feel ridiculous, feeling there was no reason to act like that. “No, it’s not you,” you reply, bringing your arms close to your body, your muscles tense. “I-I don’t know why I did it.”

“Do you need anything?”

“I-I don’t know.” You stare ahead, feeling tears well up in your eyes as memories of the previous night flood your memory. You replay it all in your head, over and over. The casino, the alleyway, the assault, the body…

_Shit. The body._

“Oh, Maker, Din,” you suddenly gasp. “What about the-”

“Already taken care of,” he responds simply, knowing what you were going to ask. “Don’t worry, okay?”

“How can you expect me not to worry?” You knit your brows into a frow. You rise to your feet, feeling the need to fidget and pace. Din follows suit, standing as he watches you move around the room. You cross your arms for a second, then bring your fingers to your mouth, biting the tip of your thumb. You start muttering, partially incoherent as you ramble off everything plaguing your mind. “You _killed_ an innocent man.”

“He wasn’t exactly innocent…”

You ignore him. Your mind is racing, and you feel yourself spiraling. You’re aware that this isn’t anywhere near the first person he has killed; it’s his job, after all. But this feels different. That wasn’t a job. That wasn’t someone with a bounty on their head. That was just flat out…murder. You don’t care about the fact that he killed someone, you know he did it to protect you. You’re more concerned that this incident will cause nothing but trouble in the future.

He has spoken your name several times, trying to get you to stop, but you ignore him as you ramble on.

“What if someone finds out about this? What if someone saw? What if-”

Unable to watch anymore, Din grabs your left wrist, trying to stop you. Remembering what happened the last time a man grabbed your wrist, you impulsively raise your right fist, ready to fight, ready to kick and scream if you have to. But he is one step ahead. He grabs your other wrist before you can even take a swing.

“Cyar’ika, it’s just me,” Din assures you, not at all offended that you’re prepared to hit him. “No one is going to hurt you.” His eyes are locked on yours, giving you a sympathetic look.

Your body relaxes when you realize there’s not threat. Din lets go of you and you back away, stunned by what you nearly did. You know it’s just Din, that he would never hurt you, but fear took over. Why didn’t you react like that last night? If you had shown even half that spine, maybe you could’ve protected yourself.

Tears of remorse flood your eyes and you hang your head, wishing you could hide them. You move a hand to your mouth, trying to cover the cry that wants to escape your lips. You crumble quickly, your quiet tears quickly turning into violent sobs you can no longer hold in. You sink to your knees on the floor, melting at Din’s feet.

“Cyar’ika…” You hear him as he sits on the floor beside you. “Please don’t cry.” You can sense him reach out then pull away, as if he afraid you’d break at his touch, like some fragile object. “Can I hold you?”

You nod as tears flow down your face, unable to formula words. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you toward him. You crawl into his lap and hold on tightly to the fabric of his shirt. You cry into his chest, tears soaking into his shirt as he cradles you. He lays a hand on your head and strokes your hair, whispering, “Shh… It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay. Shh…”

Your body shakes violently with each cry, your mind running deep with regret, reminding yourself that you are at fault for what happened. After a minute, you manage to squeak out between sobs, “I’m s-s-sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I’m stupid,” you sob. “Nothing would’ve happened if I hadn’t been so stupid. It’s all my fault.”

“Don’t say that,” Din comforts. “You’re not stupid, and you have no blame.”

“I-I dressed provocatively,” you cry.

“No, you didn’t. You can’t blame what you were wearing for what happened.”

“I drank too much.”

“You’re allowed to let loose. It’s okay.”

“I went out alone.”

“You couldn’t sit here all day and night waiting for me. I can’t ask you to do that. And I told you to go.”

“I forgot the com.”

“People forget things all the time.”

You’re silent for a moment, searching for more justifications. Unable to find anything, you cry lowly, “It’s… It’s still all my fault.”

“No, cyar’ika,” he coos. “Look at me.” He pulls you back and lays a hand on your cheek, wicking away the wetness as he caresses you. Your vision is blurry from the tears. “It’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself for what happened. Okay?”

You sniffle and nod, then lay your head back on his chest. Tears fall down your face silently as he holds you. You close your eyes and focus on breathing, trying to empty your head of every thought.

\--

You must’ve fallen back asleep on his lap. You’re back in the bed. You don’t know what time it is, but it feels later in the day, and you feel a bit more rested. Your head’s still throbbing, probably from dehydration, and your stomach growls. Fortunately, Din left the bowl of broth sitting on the nightside table. You sit up and reach for it, catching the time on the chrono as your hands grasp the dish: 3:27pm.

The broth is cold as you bring it to your lips. Your stomach doesn’t churn this time as several sips slide down your throat. You’ve never been a fan of soup or chowder or anything of the sort, but anything is better than the taste of vomit still lingering in your mouth.

After emptying the bowl, you take it to the galley, hoping to find Din there. He’s not. You add it to the pile of dishes in the sink then leave the room and head to the turbolift at the end of the hall, taking it to the top level. It was the only other obvious place he would be. 

As you exit the lift and enter the cockpit, you see that he’s slouched, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair, his fingers fiddling with his facial hair. He’s staring out the window before him, appearing lost in thought.

“Hey,” you greet timidly.

Upon hearing your voice, he straightens himself and turns in his chair. He looks at you and smiles faintly. “Feeling better?”

You look down and fidget with your fingers, searching your mind, ensuring your answer isn’t a lie. You nod. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” You look up at him. “Thank you. For everything.” You don’t want to list out everything he’s done for you in the last sixteen or so hours. You’re not even sure you want him to tell you everything he’s done. So, you leave it simply at that.

“Anything for you, cyar’ika.”

You give a weak smile as you move to the seat across from him and sit. He doesn’t turn toward you, prompting you to ask, “Is everything okay?” He is motionless. “Din?”

“I should’ve been back sooner,” he sighs as he hangs his head, his voice low and filled with regret.

“What?” you question, not understanding what he means at first.

“None of this would’ve happened had I been with you,” he continues, still not looking at you. “I should’ve been there, to protect you. I-I could’ve stopped anything from happening before it even began. I shouldn’t have made you go alone.”

Is he…Is he blaming himself for what happened to you? Your confusion turns to sympathy. You know he’s not at fault, no more than you are. “Din, please don’t,” you shake your head, stopping him before he can say anything else. You don’t want him to blame himself, but most important, you want to just move past this. “You can’t believe that things would be any different had you not been on that hunt. And you can’t beat yourself up for doing your job. It’s not your fault either.”

“I can’t protect you when I’m gone. And I can’t bring you with me because I can’t put you in danger like that.” He stands and walks toward the front of the cockpit, hands on his hips. “I-I think it’s best to take you home, like you asked.”

“Home?” you question. “What do you mean? This is home.”

“This isn’t home,” Din responds, gesturing around the area. “A ship can’t be home. Especially one we don’t even own.”

“What…Where is this coming from?” You’re confused once more. Had you given some sort of indication that you didn’t want to travel anymore? That you wanted to go somewhere else? You search your memory but find nothing.

“Don’t you remember?” he asks. “Last night, after…You asked me to take you home.”

Now that he’s mentioned it, it’s one of the last things you remember. “Yes. But I meant the ship.”

“Did you?”

“Obviously, Din. Where else would I mean?” Your eyes flicker from side to side nervously before looking down at your lap. A small part of you is questioning what you meant by your words. Why would you have meant anything else?

“I don’t know. Your home planet?”

“Why in Malachor would I want to go back to Tatooine?” You look back at him, eyes narrow, as if offended by the suggestion. “I left because there’s nothing there for me.”

“You could have a much simpler life there. It’s what you want, isn’t it? Because this…this isn’t it. This isn’t what you want.”

“Why would you think that?” He is quiet. You stare at him as you stand then move close to him. Your gaze is unwavering as you speak. “I know exactly what I signed up for when I joined you and the kid. Did I think I’d fall in love with you? No. But I knew that I would be in dangerous situations, that it wouldn’t all be fun and games, that it wouldn’t be the most glamourous lifestyle. Do I sometimes wish things could be different? That you didn’t have to gone hours or days at a time, putting your life in danger while I wait for you like some damsel in distress? Yes. But I never once considered bailing out on living this life with you.”

Din gives a faint smile, as if relieved that you don’t want to leave him.

“I know I joke about us running away and living simple lives sometimes, but that would be for _your_ sake, not my own,” you add. “I don’t care what our life looks like, where we live, what we do, as long as it’s _our_ life.” You smile. “I’m sorry, Din Djarin, but you’re stuck with me.”

He laughs lowly, then lowers his head. After a moment, he says, “I just want to know that you’re safe without having to keep you locked up like some prisoner.”

“What do you propose we do then?”

Din turns and looks down at all the buttons, switches, and controls of Slave II. He lays a hand on the console and lightly touches it, as if experiencing a moment of fondness. “I think it’s time to put this life behind us and see what Mandalore has in store for us.”

You’re shocked. He hasn’t mentioned Mandalore in weeks. You thought he was content with bounty hunting until he could find more Mandalorians. You assumed that was the plan. But he’s suddenly proposing to give up that life and…what? Rule Mandalore? Settle down and become a family man? You don’t know. “What? Are you serious?” He doesn’t answer. “Do you think it’s the right time? There’s still so many unknowns, so many questions.”

His eyes move from the console to the large window in front of him, looking out into the vast darkness of space as it spirals by. “You once said we can’t hide from Bo-Katan, from Mandalore, forever. I gave excuses, acting like I wasn’t hiding or running from it all, but maybe I have been.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before continuing. “Bounty hunting is all I’ve known, and the truth is, I’m afraid.” He swallows hard. “Of the future, of ruling, of having to make decisions that will affect an entire people.” He turns his head to look at you. “But I’m not afraid of any of those things as much as I’m afraid of losing you. My uncertainties, my doubts, I can’t let them bother me. I can’t risk them harming you.”

He stops and takes a breath. “Last night…last night solidified that I need to do something to keep you safe. If that means taking and rebuilding a broken planet, if that means uniting people scattered across the galaxy, I’ll do it. I’d go to the ends of universe, do anything and everything in my power, to keep you safe and happy.”

“Din, I…” You look at the hand still laying on the console, then lay yours on his. You have your own qualms, your own fears. You’re afraid of what’s awaiting on Mandalore, of the Empire still having a hold, of fighting, of helping Din rule a people you don’t belong to, of the politics, of the potential for getting involved in future wars once reestablishing the planet. You think for a moment, then swallow those fears. Your locked your eyes on his. “I have all the confidence in the galaxy that you will succeed at anything you do. I will be there for you every step of the way. I’ll follow you wherever you go. If you want Mandalore to be our home… Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who leave comments. They warm my cold heart <3


	5. Cin Vhetin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cin vhetin – _[SHEEN-fett-EEN]_ \- fresh start, clean slate - lit. white field, virgin snow - term indicating the erasing of a person's past when they become Mandalorian, and that they will only be judged by what they do from that point.
> 
> You and Din start working towards a future worth living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of smut, a lot of fluff.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay? Just say the word and I can just call it quits now. Fuck the quarry.”

The two of you are standing at the top of the ramp of Slave II, preparing him to leave for another hunt, the last of the pucks Greef gave him. You understand why he doesn’t want to leave you. He hasn’t left your side since Canto Bight, doing everything in his power to make sure you are safe, both mentally and physically. But you can survive without him around for a while. There’s only so much support he can provide. The rest will heal time.

You also know that he needs this. He needs to be in his element, do what he’s most comfortable with. Hopefully it’ll help him destress a little. He needs to clear his head before meeting up with Bo-Katan to discuss the future of Mandalore.

“I’m fine, Din. Honestly,” you assure him, reaching your hand up and touching the cold metal of his helmet, wishing you were feeling the warmth of his skin instead. You’re not sure he would leave if he could feel you, and he needs to go. “Besides, it’s not like you to quit a job.”

He nods, understanding. “This shouldn’t take long.”

You remove your hand and fold your arms across your chest. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be right here waiting when you get back.”

Din turns and walks down the ramp, entering the light rain that’s falling. He stops at the bottom to turns and look at you, his cape soaking up water and clinging to his legs as it tries to blow in the wind. You give a weak smile before pushing the button to raise the ramp and close the door.

As soon as you’re sealed inside, left alone in the silence, you lean back against the wall and take a deep breath. You’re thankful that Din has been by your side, but you need some solitude. You’re going through a lot. Not only dealing with the nightmares that plague you after Canto Bight but also overwhelmed by with worry. Worrying about the future, about him, about what’s going through his mind and whether he’s okay. You have no idea what’s going to happen or how to support him through it. You just know that you want to be there by his side through it all.

You haven’t expressed any of your concerns to Din. He has enough on his mind. You know he’s stressed and still feels guilty over what happened in Canto Bight, even if he doesn’t say so. You don’t need to make add more weight to his shoulders.

With the rain, you don’t go outside, so you try to pass time by playing cards or reading a holobook. You can’t focus. Overcome with fatigue, you spend time in bed wanting to sleep the hours away. However, you find yourself staring at the ceiling most of the time, unable to sleep as you replay things in your head.

_We’re seizing those weapons and using them to retake our home world. Once we’ve done that, we’ll seat a new Mandalore on the throne._ Retake our home world. What did Bo-Katan mean by “retake”? Why did it seem like she was preparing for a war? Did the Empire still have a hold on the planet? Or is she anticipating that they’ll try to take it again once word hits that the Mandalorians have reclaimed it?

_The land has always been inhospitable thanks to war after war._ Boba Fett had spoken these words. You don’t know the history of Mandalore, but you’re not surprised that a nation composed of warriors suffered from philosophical schisms that destroyed the land. You could see hostility and conflicts even among the few Mandalorians you knew. Din didn’t see Bo-Katan as a true Mandalorian when they first met, and she saw him as a religious zealot, a product of a sect that broke away from their society. She also didn’t seem too big of a fan of Boba Fett either, having once called him a disgrace to his armor, a pretender, a clone. Koska Reeves physical assaulted him, and Maker knows what would’ve happened had Bo-Katan not broken them up.

If there have already been disputes amongst the – what, five? – Mandalorians you know, what would it be like once there’s a planet full of them? Would there be endless feuding that Din would have to deescalate? All-out wars? Would people who didn’t agree with Din try to overthrow him?

Even if Mandalore found ever peace, how long would it last?

Your thoughts and fears consume you. The anxiety of it all makes you physically ill. You stomach is in knots, and any food you force yourself to eat quickly makes a reappearance. Your life had already been flipped upside down once in the last year, when you left Tatooine to join the Crest, and here you are completely changing it again, leaving behind a life you became custom to.

To be honest, you almost wouldn’t mind following Din on hunts for the rest of your lives. It wouldn’t be the best life, probably not even the most practical for raising a family, but you’d be happy.

But he has the Darksaber, and he can’t let his people down.

Din finally returns after three days. He said the job wasn’t supposed to take long, making you wonder if he drew it out, savoring every second of what could possibly be his last hunt as he hangs up his role as bounty hunter to shift into his role as ruler of Mandalore.

Hearing him shift around below, you head to meet him. When you reach the bottom level of the ship, you find that he has already encased the quarry in carbonite and placed him with the others. You quietly observe Din from the doorway of the cargo hold - where he keeps the frozen quarries - as he stands with hands on his hips, his helmeted head pointed towards the ground, body hunched. You’re relieved to see him, his company alone calming you a bit. But you also feel compassion, knowing he must have a lot on his mind. 

You’re certain he can sense your presence, but he doesn’t acknowledge you or even move. Not knowing what to say or do, you play with your fingers, searching for words. After several moments, you cautiously approach him from behind and lay a hand on his pauldron, as if he can feel your touch through the beskar.

“Are you sure about this, Din?” Your voice is gentle. “If you’re not ready, if this isn’t what you want to do, I understand.”

Inhaling sharply, he straights himself and nods. He stares squarely at the quarry in front of him, body frozen in the pewter colored material. “It’s time. This is what I have to do.”

“You don’t _have_ to do anything,” you respond. “Is this what you _want_ to do?”

He’s silent for a moment. “I’ll set the coordinates to Nevarro. We’ll be there tomorrow afternoon.” You know him well enough to know that his voice, despite being disguised by the modulator, is filled with emotion. He turns and leaves the cargo hold of the ship.

You watch him walk away, feeling his pain and understanding his struggle as he tries to give up the only career he has ever known, the largest chapter of his life. You wish you could delve inside his mind, see what he’s thinking. You wish you could understand why he feels he must do this, see what he wishes he could do instead.

The ride to Nevarro is mostly silent. Din spends most of the time in the cockpit, and you spend a lot of the time sleeping in your quarters, finally able to get some rest knowing you and Din are under the same roof. You had hoped Din would join you in bed at some point, but when you rouse in the middle of the night, you find his side empty, and it’s still empty come morning. You look to the table beside the bed, seeing his helmet is where he’d left it the night before after showering. 

You don’t cross paths until breakfast. You make yourself a plate and sit at the table. Moments later, he walks into the galley. You give him a weak smile then look down at the eggs and toast you’ve made, suddenly losing your appetite. You prod your food, scrunching your nose as you force yourself to take a bite. You nearly gag but somehow manage to swallow.

Din sits across from you with a bowl. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just…” You lay your fork down and sigh as you bring your hand to your head, feeling a headache coming on. “I think I’m just stressed.”

“What about, cyar’ika?”

You look up and stare at him, wondering if he’s playing stupid, choosing to ignore the bantha that’s in the room. “Gee, I don’t know,” you say sardonically. “Mandalore, maybe?”

He sighs. “I know. I’m sorry. Do you want to talk?”

“Do _I_ want to talk?” you question. “Din, you’ve been distant ever since you came back from your hunt. _You’re_ the one that doesn’t seem like you want to talk.”

He waves you off as he takes a bite of his porridge. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Din…” You reach across the table and grab the hand resting by his bowl, then squeeze. You wish you could feel the skin hidden beneath his glove. “I know we both have difficulty talking about our feelings. We have to let each other in. You’re troubled. I can tell. You told me you have qualms the other day. Don’t hold it all in. Please.”

He exhales as he drops his spoon into the bowl. He looks up at you, his eyes filled with emotions. “It feels ridiculous. Grieving a life I never wanted…”

“It’s not ridiculous though,” you comfort, withdrawing your hand. “You may not have wanted it, but it was still your life for…how many years?”

“Too many,” he sighs. “Feels like a century”

“You’re old, but you’re not _that_ old.” You smile weakly but it fades as quickly as it appeared. “This change is intimidating for you, I know. Bounty hunting may not be easy, but you’re good at it. _Very_ good at it. The thought of doing anything else is terrifying, I’m sure. Especially something like ruling an entire planet. You’ve never done it before. You’ve been alone, working mostly by yourself for most of your life. It’ll be hard.”

His face and body seem less stiff, as if he’s relieved that you understand some of what he’s thinking. He closes his eyes and nods his head, taking in and agreeing with what you’re saying.

“Change is never easy,” you continue. “Humans are creatures of habit. We like routines. We like sticking to what we know. But sometimes change is a necessary part of life.” You reach out and grab his hand once more. “And you know I’ll be by your side through it all.”

You give him another weak smile and he responds by tentatively upturning the corners of his mouth.

“You know, I had a hard time adjusting when I joined the Crest,” you admit. “I was afraid to leave everything – my life, my job, my friends, my home – behind. Afraid to be alone on a ship with this mysterious man I hardly even knew, taking care of a kid who wasn’t even the same species as me, let alone kin.” The thought of that little green guy makes you pause and smile for a moment. “Mostly, I was afraid of screwing up. What if I lost the kid? What if I damaged your ship? Not that more damage could be done to that old hunk of junk, but you know what I mean.” He chuckles, and you continue, “I was filled with so much self-doubt, so many fears. I mourned the simplicity of my life back on Tatooine. I think I cried for days.”

“I know you did,” he says lowly.

You’re stunned and slightly embarrassed. “You…you knew?”

“Yes,” he responds. “Sound carried well on the ship. I didn’t hear you many times, but when I did, I hated knowing you were unhappy. I wanted to console you, but I didn’t know how, and I didn’t want to embarrass you. Some days I wanted to offer to take you back home, but the kid loved you. And I needed you. I-I wanted you.”

You smile meekly. “I’m not so sure I would’ve accepted the offer anyway. Point being…It was hard, but it was necessary. I didn’t want to be a mechanic on Tatooine my entire life. Given the chance, I wouldn’t have made a different choice.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” You grin. “Just give it time, okay? Be patient. I’m scared too, but I know things will be fine because we have each other.”

“Just fine?” Din questions. “Not incredible or amazing or anything a little more…positive?”

A hint of a smile appears across your face as you nod your head once. “Of course. All those things too.”

Din’s face quickly turns soft, looking at you with concern. “What are you afraid of, cyar’ika?”

You don’t want to say anything, don’t want to add to his worries, but you know it’s only fair to let him in. “A lot of things,” you admit. “But mostly the Empire returning and causing trouble.”

He sits back in his seat, deeply inhaling. “Valid concern,” he simply assures you, at least making you feel a little less silly for thinking about these things. “I can’t say whether the Empire will or won’t be a threat. I doubt whatever remnants are left will want to see Mandalore restored. And should Moff Gideon ever escape the hands of the New Republic, I’m all but certain that the first person he’ll come find is me. He’ll want this back.” He nods toward the hilt of Darksaber, attached to his belt.

“That’s comforting,” you mutter. You had already been thinking of those things. But knowing that Din is aware of them too makes it feel more like a possibility.

“I’m sorry,” Din apologizes. “I don’t mean to worry you more.”

You shake your head. “I’m aware of all the possibilities. And I’m afraid that you’ll be dragged you into war,” you respond. “Against the Empire. Against other Mandalorians. Against whoever else feels like fighting for no damn reason. I can’t lose you.”

Din leans forward, his arms on the table. “You won’t lose me.”

“You can’t know that,” you respond. “You said the reason you want to go to Mandalore is that you’re afraid of losing me, of me getting hurt. But how can it be any safer for either one of us? Especially you.”

“I can’t know for sure that it’s the safest option,” Din admits. “At least for now, it seems to be. We can’t know for sure that anything will happen with the Empire, that there will be any type of conflict at all. And if there is, I would have protections as Mand’alor. Protections that would extend to you. Plus, you would have the stability of not having to travel planet to planet. It seems like the best bet for a future.”

“You know I don’t give two bantha shits about any of that,” you say adamantly. “I don’t need to be tied down to a planet, and I don’t need protection. I only need you, Din.”

“But you deserve the entire galaxy,” he immediately responds, reaching out to grab your hand. “And as Mand’alor, I could give it to you. You can have whatever you want.”

Your eyes are soft. You could ask him for anything, and he would give it to you. Truthfully, there’s little you want. Settling down with Din, having a home of your own, maybe a couple of kids is ideal to you, but you don’t care about living some lavish lifestyle as king and queen. You don’t need a palace with guards. All you want is to grow old and happy with Din. It doesn’t matter where or how.

After several moments, you sit back, your hand receding from his. “You’ve never once told me what you want,” you simply state, realizing that he seems to want to go to Mandalore only to make things safer for you. “Forget about anything you think I want or need and fuck Bo-Katan and the Mandalorians. What would make _you_ happy?”

Din sits silently for several moments, his eyes searching for an answer. Finally, he pushes himself up, sitting straight in his chair. He is perfectly composed, not at all out of sorts, as if certain of his response. “I want you-”

“No,” you interrupt, raising your hand. “This isn’t about me. What do _you_ want?”

“I was trying to tell you, but I was so rudely interrupted.” He lets out a laugh. “I want you…,” he repeats, pausing momentarily as his smile changes. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but it’s dazzling yet mischievous. “…to marry me.”

You’re frozen in your seat. You stare at him blankly as you try to process what he just said. Is he…is he asking, right here, right now?

Din is motionless, eyes locked on you, waiting for you to say something, anything. “Do I have to get on one knee?” he questions after you’ve been silent for a minute.

“No,” you respond, body still frozen.

“No, you won’t marry me or-”

“No, no, no,” you interrupt, waving your hands. You’re flustered. Tears of happiness form in your eyes. “Absolutely not that. The other thing. I-I won’t make you get on one knee.”

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to keep your composure.

Din chuckles. “Well, while you think of an answer, I have something to show you…” He reaches into the pocket of his belt to retrieve something. You watch as he removes his fingers and places two different sized silver bands of on the table. Stunned, you look down at them, so shiny and clean, so simple yet perfect. Immediately, you know they’re weddings rings.

“How…how long have you had these?” you question.

He shrugs. “A while. I just could never find the right moment to show you.”

Tears dance in your eyes as you look at him in awe. You want to say something, but you can’t speak. You look back down at the rings sitting on the table, wondering how long they’ve been so close to you without you knowing.

“Do you remember what you said that day on Tatooine? When you thought I was proposing to you?”

You’re beaming as you look up at him, recalling the day as if it was yesterday. The two of you were eating breakfast at the café inside the hotel, talking and laughing. You had asked him about Boba Fett loaning him a ship, and he said that one day the two of you could buy a ship of your own. _Is this your idea of a proposal?_ You had choked on your milk when he said it was. You remember the way your stomach dropped, as if you were on a ship that unexpectedly hurled you through hyperspace. You’d only been intimate for a couple weeks, only just made up after he had suggested marrying Bo-Katan, but your answer wouldn’t had been no, had he not been kidding around that day.

“I said that I couldn’t wear a ship on my finger,” you respond, confused why he was bringing it up.

“I had the gear knob from the Razor Crest melted down,” Din informs you. “You know, the little ball Grogu played with. We’ll always have a part of the ship with us. We’ll carry Grogu with us too.”

“A part of the ship on my finger,” you whisper to yourself, realizing what he had done. “You clever kriff…” You softly shake your head, in complete disbelief. You think back to the day the Jedi came for Grogu, how Din held the little silver ball in his hand after the kid was already gone, how much it meant to him to still have it. It was all he had left, of him, of the ship. The fact that he had it melted down to give you a ring melts your heart.

“It’s mixed with beskar from my spear, so you’ll carry a part of me with you always.”

You’re beyond speechless.

Din reaches and retrieves the rings from the table. “I’ll keep them safe until our wedding day. Assuming you say yes. But this…” He puts his fingers back into the pocket, returning the rings for safekeeping. When he pulls his fingers back out, you see he is carefully holding something else. It takes you a second to process that it’s another ring. “This is for now.”

The band is the same silver color as the other two and just as simple. The biggest difference is that this one boasts three stones: a large grey gem in the shape of a pear in the middle surrounded by a single hexagonal diamond on each side. You instantly recognize the big gem as one that is native to Tatooine, having seen it mined and sold in the market at Mos Eisley so many times. You can’t get over how beautiful it is, and you’re stunned that he would have something like this made, obviously specifically created for you.

“Ask me,” you say lowly, eyes moving from the ring to him.

“What?” he questions, confusion in his voice.

“You never actually asked me. So ask me. Ask me, Din. Ask me right now,” you demand excitedly, your body filling with anticipation. Your heart pounds against your chest, and you feel you may burst if he makes you wait any longer. “And take off your fucking gloves before you ask or so help me Maker I’ll say no.”

Din laughs, his eyes glowing at he looks at you and takes off his gloves, placing them on the table. He rises from his chair and moves to the other side of the table, standing in front of you. He holds out his hand. “Cyar’ika…”

You take his hand, his skin touching yours making you tremble as stand. You’re beaming as you peer deeply into his eyes. You feel as he places the ring on the end of your finger, waiting for your response before moving it further.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” you immediately blurt out. You cover your mouth with your right hand, almost embarrassed by how loudly you responded.

Din chuckles. “I was hoping for a little more enthusiasm,” he says plainly, causing you to laugh as you watch him slowly slip the ring on your finger.

Thrilled, you throw your arms around him, pulling him into a hug as tight as his armor will allow. He holds you in his arms. After a moment, you pull back and look into at him, his brown eyes misted over with tears. You plant a long, soft kiss on his lips. He takes your face into both of your hands, the kisses turning deep, passionate. Suddenly, he bends over just enough to scoop you into your arms.

“Din!” you squeal, laughing as you wrap one arm around his neck, your other hand resting on his chest plate.

He carries you down to your quarters, where he gently lays you on the bed. He sits on the bed beside you and kisses you, but you pull away and say, “I want you. All of you.”

Seeming to understand, he pushes himself off the bed. “You sure you want to marry me?” he questions, backing away as he unbuckles his belt.

“I don’t know. I could use some convincing,” you say, grinning. He raises his bandolier over his head and down his arm, letting it fall to the floor. You lift your shirt of your head then wiggle out of your pants, tossing them to the side. You lie back in bed, one leg bent, watching him as he removes a pauldron. You turn and see his helmet, which he had left sitting on the table after showering the day before. You reach over and grab it, taking it in your hands.

“How do you see out of this thing anyway?” you ask, examining the thin T-shaped visor while you patiently wait for Din to undress.

“Give it a try,” he says, releasing his chest armor and carefully letting it fall to the floor with a clank.

Smirking, you turn the helmet around, then slowly lower it onto your head. It’s a little loose, his head a bit bigger than yours, but it’s comfortable and not nearly as suffocating as you thought. It’s not the worst thing in the world, but you wonder how someone could wear it all day every day for years. For decades. Unable to feel the air on your naked face or someone’s lips on yours. The thought makes you want to put your hands all over him, to touch and kiss every single inch of him.

But you must wait until Din undresses.

You look around the room, noting that the display on the screen allows you to see everything as if you were looking with your naked eyes. It’s not quite the same, but close, missing only your peripheral vision.

“What do you think? Could I pass as a Mandalorian?” you question.

He chuckles as he removes the armor on his thighs. “Mandalorians are rarely seen without their armor on, let alone completely naked.” He looks up, then stops what he’s doing and gazes at you. “It’s sexy, seeing you like this.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Very.”

“Don’t tell me you have a thing for helmets.”

“Only have a thing for _you_ wearing _my_ helmet naked.” He places a hand on his hip. “Are you really the one to judge?”

You giggle. “Fair point.” You look around more as Din continues to undress. “What all does this do?”

“Lightly push the button on the right side of the helmet,” he informs you. You raise your hand to the side of the helmet, prompting him to add, “Careful, or you’ll deploy the whistling birds.” You quickly pull away and he laughs. “I’m kidding, cyar’ika. Just lightly push it.” 

You purse your lips, then carefully raise your arm once more, bringing a finger to the right side of the helmet. Carefully, you press it once and hear a beep as the screen in front of you flashes, then everything in the room turns cyan. “Maker. Wow.” You look down at your extremities, glowing various shades of red.

“Look at me.”

You look up and see him, his body glowing red, the room around him blue. You can tell he’s no longer wearing clothes. “Why is the color darkest between your legs?” you question slyly, knowing the answer full well. You watch as he moves toward the bed.

“You mean here?” he questions as he touches and strokes himself.

“Mhm. Right there.”

“Do you want this?”

“Yes.” You move to remove the helmet.

“Stop. Hold down on the button for a few seconds,” he instructs.

You stop what you’re doing, wondering what he’s up to. “Alright…” You lay your finger and hold it as instructed. You hear another beep and the screen cuts to black. Your stomach drops. “Oh, no. What did I do? Did I break it?” 

“No, cyar’ika,” he responds. “You just turned off the screen.” You feel the bed shift as Din crawls in beside you. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

You can sense his presence. You strain your ears, trying to pick up clues to find where he’s going, what he’s going to do. All you hear is your own breathing and the whooshing of blood flowing through you as your heart picks up pace. His finger grazes a nipple then strokes it. You inhale sharply and arch into the bed, not expecting his touch there.

“Are you okay?” he questions lowly.

“Yes.” You relax your body, telling yourself to clear your mind and just trust him, to enjoy his touches _. It’s only Din. Only you. Relax. Trust him._

“Good.” Your nipple hardens and he lightly pinches it into a hard point, causing you to squirm, giving you more pleasure than pain. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

You don’t respond as he does the same thing to your other breast, his pinches wakening more nerve endings in your breast, in your core. You can’t see him, and your skin is growing acutely sensitive, anxious for the next touch of his fingers.

A strong hand runs down your torso, lightly stroking your stomach. Your sense of touch feels magnified tenfold. When he reaches your pelvic area, his touch disappears. You wiggle your hips, trying to find him. After a couple seconds, you feel his fingers trace a line up and down your thigh. You’re a sucker for light touch, causing you to gasp, wiggle, and moan. You voluntarily spread your legs, waiting, hoping, aching for the moment he would finally give you the attention you’re craving. Inch by tantalizing inch, he creeps his fingers toward your pussy. You’re squirming, all but vocally pleading for him to get there faster.

You feel his lips on your shoulder, then his presses his hand between your legs. You gasp, lifting your hips in response, grinding against his hand. A finger works between your lips. One, then two, fingers slip into your dripping pussy, then curl. Slowly, he rubs them against your walls, pressing the heel of his hand against your pubic bone as he does so.

His fingers rubbing and fucking you, he kisses a trail between your breasts. He pauses to bite and nip every few kisses, eliciting sharp gasps of pleasure.

“Do you like this?” he questions.

“Yes. Yes, Din,” you gasp. You don’t know where his mouth will land next, but you feel him making his way further down your body. Suddenly, his fingers and lips are gone. You wait impatiently for his next move. He shifts around on the bed, and you sense him between your legs. His hands graze your outer thighs and grasp your hips. His hot breath is on your inner thighs, where he plants a small skill. Then, his tongue runs flat along your clit, causing you to grasp onto the sheets as you cry out. He laps and kisses you there, causing you to moan increasing louder, thrusting your hips into his face.

“Oh, Maker, please,” you whimper, feeling fluid drip down you and onto the bed, pooling on the sheet beneath you.

He moans, the vibration sending shockwaves through you. Then, he closes his lips around you, swirling his tongue before sucking.

“Don’t stop.” You reach out and find the top of his head, then run your fingers in his soft curls. The orgasm courses through your body and you scream, gently grabbing his scalp, your toes curling. His mouth is locked on you, sucking fervently as you buck your hips, muscles spasming and jumping. Finally, your muscles go limp. Din’s mouth leaves your clit and his hands leave your hips.

“Maker,” you pant, gasping inside the helmet, your fingers unraveling from his hair. He plants one more kiss on your thigh before you feel him pull away. You reach up and pull the helmet off your head with one hand, while pulling him up toward you with the other. The helmet falls to the floor with a clunk, and you pull Din down to your mouth. His bodyweight traps you against the bed as he kisses you in absolutely possession of your lips. You can taste yourself on him, strange but sweet. Your tongue dives deep within the recesses of his mouth.

His fingers wrap in your hair, then he pulls your neck to the side. He licks and bites the nape of your neck, causing you to moan, your skin still extra sensitive. You’re gasping, reeling, completely lost in the sensations.

“I’m wet for you, Din,” you whisper.

“I know, cyar’ika,” he says between kisses.

“I want you inside me. Please.”

He nibbles on your neck one last time before pulling away. He reaches down and grabs himself, then gently pushes his cock inside of you. You moan in your throat as you feel him slide inside. You look into each other’s eyes as he thrusts, slow and hard at first. You lay one of your hands on his shoulder while the other is on his back, your fingertips lightly running down him.

“I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you, too, cyar’ika.”

  
You hand moves from his shoulder to the back of his head. You push him down, forcing you to kiss him. You grab both sides of his face, kissing him deeper as he feels your hair. His thrusts are slow and gently but feel so good rubbing inside you. You remove a hand from his face and lay it on the pillow beside you, then his finds yours and your fingers intertwine. He squeezes as he speeds up his thrusts, causing you to throw your head back, moaning in ecstasy. You wrap your legs around him, squeezing him lightly. His head falls to your neck, his pants hot on your skin. He kisses you several times before stopping, focusing on his thrusts.

“Look at me, Din.”

He pulls his head back. You weave his hair tighter in your fingers as he looks down at you.

“I want to look at you as you cum inside me.”

“Shit, cyar’ika,” he says, breaking his gaze for just a moment before his eyes lock on yours again. You know he’s on the edge. His movements slow, but you move your hips, squeezing your thighs against him as you rock.

His hold on you tightens, but not too much, as his eyes squeeze shut, and a moan escapes between gritted teeth. You move with him, feeling as he fills you. When you both stop moving, his hold on your hand relaxes, and you unwrap your legs from him, letting them fall. He rolls off you and lays on his back beside you, allowing you to roll over and cuddle him.

You smile, closing your eyes as you lay your head on his chest. He softly combs through your hair as you listen to him breathe, his chest raising and lowering with each breathe. “I can’t wait to marry you,” you whisper. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

\--

You arrive on Nevarro a few hours later, in the late afternoon. To no surprise, Greef is there to greet you both.

“I’m afraid I have no pucks, Mando,” Greef admits, hands on his hips as he watches you and Din disembark the ship.

“I’m not here for more work,” Din says. “Just here to make an exchange before heading to Lothal.”

“What’s waiting on Lothal?”

Din looks to you. You nod, encouraging him to talk about the plans. In all the times you’ve visited Nevarro, he has never once brought up Mandalore. You’re sure Cara brought Greef up to speed with everything that happened on Gideon’s cruiser, so he’s likely not in the dark, but Din never spoke about it to anyone other than you. You hope talking it over with someone he trusts will help him with his reservations.

“Let’s get business taken care of first, then we can talk,” Din says to him.

“Fine by me.”

You head to the bazaar as the two men get to work unloading the ship. You slowly walk past the stalls of traders, admiring what they have to offer. A couple of Jawas try to stop you to look at their scrap collection.

“Nyeta, taa baa,” you politely tell them in Jawaese. _No, thank you._ You’re a bit rusty with their language, but you’re no stranger to the species. They are notorious for trying to sell their hastily refurbished junk to hard-pressed moisture farmers back on your home planet.

You hurry past them, not the least bit interested in being swindled by them. As you slow your pace, your mind drifts to the time you and Din last hurried past Jawas, at the droid shop on Tatooine. You remember him telling you about the fate of his childhood home, of holding on to him tightly as you comforted him, his cologne permeating your nostrils. You smile weakly to yourself, thankful that he can open to you like that.

You stop at a stall selling blue cookies, your favorite, and buy one, savoring the richness and airiness of it as you continue to walk along the bazaar. You come across dozens of necklaces dangling at the front of a canopied stall. You grab your engagement ring and play with it on your finger. Din had put so much thought and care into your engagement ring and wedding band. You feel so fortunate to have someone who would do something so thoughtful and considerate, but you wonder if there’s something you could do for him, something you could give him to show your love and commitment.

Your eyes scan the necklaces. Pendants of various shapes and sizes hang from either leather ropes or metallic chains of silver or gold. You take one in your palm, examining the crescent shaped black gemstone closely, smooth against your skin.

“Obsidian,” a voice says simply. Your eyes dart to a man standing in the stall, watching you as you observe his wares. You can see a heavily pregnant woman sitting behind him, carefully yet easily stringing beads onto a golden wire. “It protects the wearer from feelings of hopelessness and sadness. It provides them with strength when facing difficulties.”

“Interesting…” you mutter, removing your hand from the hanging pendant, your eyes moving to the table in front of you. Various rings, earrings, and bracelets are on display, made of simple dark stones. You pick up a bracelet and examine it closely, admiring the porous black beads.

“What is this?” you question, looking up.

“Lava stone,” the man replies. “Volcanic rock solidified from molten lava here on Nevarro.”

“How beautiful.”

“It has healing properties,” the man continues. “It is a calming stone, very useful in dissipating anger. It also provides stability through times of change.”

“Stability through times of change, you say?” You chuckle. You’re unsure if you believe that stones can do such things – you didn’t believe in such nonsense before meeting Grogu and seeing what happened at the seeing stones, at least - but you find the timing of coming across such a stone amusing.

“Yes,” the man affirms. “It can also enhance fertility.”

“Fertility?” You question, eyes wide. “Oh, Maker. I’m not sure I’ll be needing that anytime soon.” You giggle awkwardly as you lay the bracelet back down.

“No, I would think not,” the man responds, a bit forward.

“What?” you respond, unsure what he meant by that.

“Oh, no, forgive me,” the man apologizes, laying a hand on his chest. “It’s just-you have a certain glow about you. You remind me of my wife.” He gestures to the pregnant woman at the back of the store.

“Oh,” you respond, laughing it off. “Um…Thank you, I think?” Your face is contorted, and you know you must still look offended, as the man continues to apologize. You wave it off, telling him, “It’s fine, really.” You take one last look, seeing nothing that seems good enough to give Din.

“Thank you for your time.”

You give a faint smile, then turn and walk away. As you slowly move, you feel your face with a hand, your mind wandering to what the trader had said. _You have a certain glow about you._ You feel warm, likely from the heat of the day. It’s likely causing you to look flushed, having been in the sun without water too long. Nothing more. Maybe it makes you look pretty, who knows.

You remove your hand from your face and play with the ring on your finger. Thinking about having children with Din isn’t anything new to you; it’s something you think about from time to time. And yes, you’ve even pondered their names. But the two of you had only just gotten engaged, and you still have Mandalore to deal with. You have no idea when a wedding let alone kids could fit into the picture.

Still, you think to the pregnant woman sitting at the jewelry stand and wonder what it would be like to have a swollen stomach of your own, to carry Din’s child, to make him a father. You saw the way he was with Grogu, so sweet and loving, willing to do anything to protect him. And he was only his foundling. How much would he love his own flesh and blood, a child from the woman he loved more than anything in the galaxy?

Lost in thought, you circle around the large statue of IG-11 and, looking through the small crowd, catch sight of Din and Greef as they walk toward his office. You stop for a moment, admiring his strut. The way he carries himself with such confidence, the way his thumb rests on the buckle of his belt while his other arm swings as he moves… Your stomach feels as though it’s being tickled from the inside, like you’ve swallowed a dozen butterflies and they’re all still fluttering about in your guts. That’s the man you’re going to marry, the man you’re, one day, Maker willing, going to have children with.

Smiling, you move to catch up with them.

Din turns to acknowledge your presence as you enter Greef’s office behind them, but they’re mid-conversation and he doesn’t stop. You’re able to decipher that they’re discussing Mandalore, but you’re not really listening, lost in thought as you stand near Din. You love this man more than anything. You want nothing more to spend the rest of your life with him, to have his children one day. How wonder of a father he’d be, how beautiful your children…Would they have his eyes? Would they have your smile? His strength? Your intellect?

You snap out of your thoughts when you suddenly feel dizzy. Walking around in the bright sun of Nevarro at the hottest time of day drained you, and you hadn’t realized until you were standing still in the stuffy room. The heat is making you nauseous, the cookie you ate suddenly feeling heavy on top of the lunch you had before landing. You blink and take a quiet but deep breath as you hug your arms tightly to yourself, hoping not to draw attention from the men.

Trying to focus on something other than how you feel, you watch Greef as he reaches into his desk and pulls out a stack of credits. He hands them to Din, asking, “Are you planning to stay for a spell? Grab a bite to eat, spend the night in town, leave at first light.”

“No,” Din responds simply, looking at you then back to Greef. “I think we need to get on the move.”

“Well, I wish you the best of luck then, Mando,” Greef says as they shake hands. “If you need anything, anything at all, you know where to find me. I’m sure Cara won’t mind if I say the same for her. She’ll be sore she missed you. And you…” He looks at you, causing you to straighten yourself and focus. “Keep him in line, alright?”

“I’ll try.” You give a small smile.

He looks down at your hand, which is grasping your arm, then back up at you. His eyes bounce between you and Din as he puts the pieces of the puzzle together. “Now wait just a minute. Is there something you two aren’t tell me?” 

You hadn’t realized until then that your ring is on full display as you hug yourself. You look at Din, blushing as you purse your lips.

“Yes,” Din responds. “We’re engaged.”

“Well, let’s see it then. Come on.” Greef gestures for you show him, which you do, allowing him a better look at the rocks on your finger. He studies it for a moment, the gems shining brilliantly in the light of the room, then looks up at Din and says, “You did good, Mando.”

You giggle while Din puffs out his chest, as if proud of himself.

“Are you sure you won’t stay?” Greef questions. “You should enjoy yourselves. Celebrate. This Bo-Katan person can wait. You only get engaged once.”

You look to Din for an answer, wanting to celebrate, but also feeling a little off and just wanting to go rest. He looks at you and cocks his head, as if noticing that something’s wrong, though you can’t see the expression on his face behind the helmet.

“We should go,” Din finally responds.

Greef nods, seeming disappointed. “I understand. Well, congratulations you two.” He pulls you into a hug, then turns and shakes Din’s hand one last time. “Don’t be strangers. I expect an invite to the wedding.”

Without another word, you turn and walk out of the office, Din following behind you. The office felt suffocating, and the instant you walk outside you feel a slight breezing hit your face. You inhale deeply, embracing the fresh air. You then take slow, deep breaths, trying to keep the churning feeling in your stomach at bay.

“Are you okay?” Din asks as he moves beside you. “You look pale.”

You stop and put your hands on your hips, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath through your nose as a strong wave hits you. You nod, unable to answer in fear that something other than words may come out should you part your lips. You cover your mouth and nose, catching a whiff of something being cooked by a nearby vendor in the bazaar. Saliva fills your mouth and you know you’re past the point of no return. You run to the nearest corner and begin to vomit, resting your hand on the stone structure beside you for support as you expel everything from lunch earlier that day.

“Cyar’ika,” Din coos. He places a hand on your back as your vomit lands on the dirt. 

After a minute, you feel that you’ve expelled everything inside you. “I think I need to change my favorite color,” you utter, seeing the bright blue cookie amongst the mess you made. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and stand up straight.

“What’s wrong? Are you sick or something?” Din backs away, giving you space to move.

You walk to the front of the building you’re next to and sit on the steps. “I don’t know. Maybe it was something I ate.”

“That better not be a comment on my cooking.” He steps in front of you, hands gripping his belt as he looks down.

You chuckle. “No. I just…I don’t know what’s wrong. I’ve been feeling off lately, and I think walking around in the heat didn’t help.”

He cocks his head. “Why haven’t you said anything before now?”

You shrug. “It keeps coming and going,” you reply. “I’ve been okay since you’ve been back, but while you were on your hunt, I felt awful. I thought I stressed myself sick, but I don’t know.”

“You must’ve caught something,” Din concludes. He sighs as he shifts all his weight to one leg. “Maybe we should go with Greef’s suggestion and stay here for the night. Lothal can wait. Fresh air and rest will help, and if you’re not better in the morning, you can visit the Twi’lek healing baths.”

You nod, agreeing with him. “I’m sure I’ll be fine by morning.”

\--

The two of you spend the night at an inn in town. You wake feeling well enough to shower and dress. Din suggests breakfast and lists off options, but the thought makes you feel queasy again. You find yourself rushing to the refresher where you mostly dry heave, your stomach filled with nothing but water and acid. Din follows and offers support, kneeling beside you and holding back your freshly washed hair. After a minute or two, you mumble that you’re fine and wave him away, just wanting to sit in silence until you feel it’s safe to get up.

“I’ll get you water. You need to stay hydrated,” Din offers as he stands.

You nod, moving to sit on the floor, back against the wall across from the toilet. You wonder what you possibly could’ve caught, what could make you feel fine one minute and queasy the next for days. It’s been at least a week, since before Canto Bight. It started with fatigue, becoming overwhelmingly tired within hours of waking. Then there was the soreness. At least once you couldn’t stand Din touching your breasts while intimate, something you usually enjoy. Finally, the nausea, which seemed to be worsened by certain smells.

You thought it was stress. So much has happened in so little time. But you’re feeling less stressed, especially after such a wonderful morning with Din. You wonder if any of it could be connected to the start of your monthly. You wonder if it’s even time for that. You try to remember the day, try to calculate how long it’s been, coming to the realization that you’re late. Your last monthly was…wait.

You’re much later than you originally thought, realizing you skipped the previous month as well. You draw your hand to your mouth, eyes wide as you try to think. You did have one last month, didn’t you? Sure, you did. No… Maybe you didn’t. How did you not even notice?

_You have a certain glow about you._

No. No way in Malachor. You quickly scramble to your feet and move to the sink basin, looking into the mirror hanging above it. Immediately, you notice that your skin looks flushed, your face brighter and fuller. You first noticed it while in Canto Bight, before going to the casino, but you figured it was from your confidence, from your make-up. But there’s no mistaking it, even though only just woke up and still feel exhausted, even though you haven’t been in the sun, you’re glowing. And your breasts…Are they fuller too?

Oh, Maker. Could it be true? You reach down, feeling your lower stomach, bloated as if you’ve swallowed a bunch of hot air. There’s no way. You’re protected. You had something inserted that was supposed to prevent such a thing. There’s no possible way.

You’re in denial, but all the signs are there. It’s the only logical explanation. There’s a human inside of you. A tiny speck, but another human being, nonetheless.

“Dank farrik,” you mutter to yourself, a hand drawn to your mouth. Your eyes dart to refresher door, making sure Din didn’t hear you or otherwise come back. Your eyes fill with tears and heart pounds ferociously, a mixture of excitement and shock and fear and a thousand other emotions filling your mind.

You take a deep breath and exhale, shaking your hands as if the gesture will shake away the nerves and tears. You know you can’t stay in here forever but leaving the room means you’ll face Din. How do you even tell him? He has so much on his mind. The last thing he needs is this. Or maybe this is exactly what he needs. Something to look forward to, maybe, something other than you to give meaning to his life. Would he be excited? Would he be ready to be a father?

Taking another breath, you walk out the refresher door. As you enter the bedroom, you see him sitting at a small table. You walk over a grab the glass of water sitting on his, quietly thanking him.

“You okay?” he immediately questions.

You swallow a small sip. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Your voice cracks. You quickly clear your throat and give a small reassuring smile before looking down at the glass in your hand, trying to keep your composure as you weigh whether to tell him.

“Are you sure? You look like you’re about to cry.”

“What?” You question, a bit spacey. “No. I’m fine. Really. I just…” You reconsider telling him. You’re not sure if you’re ready, still trying to wrap your head around it yourself. You set the cup back down. “I think I need some air. I-I’m going for a walk, okay?”

“Okay, yeah, sure,” Din replies, seeming skeptical. You can sense that he knows something is up, but you ignore it, not ready to confront him just yet. His world has been overturned enough in recent months; how can you do it to him again?

You walk out the door of the inn and move outside into the morning sun. You quickly move through the mostly empty bazaar, exiting under the arch and walking along the outskirts of the city. Once you’re certain you’re in complete solitude, away from everyone within the city, you release the tears you’ve been holding back. You sit on a flat area of ground, back against a mound of dirt.

You’re not complete sure why you’re crying. You’re full of emotions and just need to release it somehow. You’re shocked and overwhelmed. You’re scared, terrified of how this will change things. Afraid of how this could change your relationship with Din. Afraid of the thought of becoming a mother, raising your child on a foreign planet. Are you at all prepared to even raise a child? Will this child be raised to be a warrior like their father? How do you raise them in a culture you’re still learning yourself?

Despite all the fear, you’re also excited by the thought. You’re having Din’s child. Half you, half him. Something to carry and love unconditionally.

You immediately regret not telling him. You know there’s no more secrets, no more shutting the other out. He’d want to share in your feelings, good or bad, though you’re almost certain he would be excited. Just as shocked as you perhaps, but thrilled, nonetheless. You just weren’t thinking clearly enough to tell him.

A half-hour passes and you’ve calmed yourself. You’ve concluded that you’re mostly excited with a side of terrified. That’s normal, right?

You look down and play with your engagement ring, twisting it on your finger as you try to come to terms with the fact that you’re not only going to be a wife, but a mother as well. It’s all happening so fast, but it’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more. And you get to experience it all with the man of your dreams. You should be embracing it, not fearing it. It’s all just…chaos. Beautiful, blissful chaos.

Steam rises from a hole in the ground nearby, which you fixate on, smiling to yourself as you accept that this is all happening. You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that don’t even notice Din as he approaches you from the side.

“What are you doing down there, cyar’ika?”

You look up, a little startled. You watch as he approaches, those familiar flutters in the pit of your stomach as you watch him walk, his helmet in his arm, resting against his hip

“I forgot there’s no hiding from an expert bounty hunter,” you say with a smile.

“Were you hiding from me?” he asks, standing above you.

“No,” you respond immediately, shaking your head. “No, of course not. I just mean that I’m not surprised you found me. Help me up?” You reach your hand out, and he grabs ahold and helps you to your feet. An image of you heavily pregnant and needing his help up from the simplest of places flashes in your mind, causing a soft smile to appear across your face. You look down, trying to hide it.

Din lets go of your hand and shifts to try to look at you. Could he tell that you had been crying? “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“What? No.” You try to play it cool, but you can barely look him in the eyes as you respond. You want to tell him, but you’re not sure how. Is this the right place? The right time?

“Is something wrong?”

“No.” You cross your arms in front of you yourself.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me nothing’s wrong,” Din says, almost playfully. He extends his neck, trying to lock eyes with you.

You look up at him, searching for a moment before saying. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s nothing?” he questions, immediately catching your slip.

“There’s nothing,” you quickly correct yourself.

Your name escapes his lips. You know he’s no longer playing. His tone is serious. “Tell me. Please.”

You turn and take a step away, hugging your arms against you as you question how you tell someone that they’re about to be a father.

You sense him take a step closer to you. “No secrets, remember? What is it?”

“I-I think I may be…I think there’s a chance…” Deep down, you know there’s no “maybe” to it, only one-hundred percent certainty. You turn and look at him, relaxing your arms a bit and opting instead to twist and play with your fingers. “I’m pregnant.”

His helmet falls from his hand, landing on the ground near his feet. He cocks his head and shifts all his weight to one leg. “You’re…what?”

“I-I have no idea how this happened.”

“I think you know how that sort of thing happens,” Din says, laughing awkwardly. You blush, knowing full well too. “But…what? Are you…Are you sure?”

You nod. “The sickness, the fatigue… I mean, did you not even notice that my breasts are bigger?” He gives you a look that makes you say, “Yeah, that was a stupid question. But it all makes sense. Not to mention, I haven’t had a course in weeks. I didn’t even realize until today. I haven’t been keeping track.”

Din turns and puts his hands on his hips, his body uneven. You’re unable to decipher his body language.

“I’m so sorry,” you blurt out. You don’t even know why you’re apologizing; you just can’t think of anything else to say. A small part of you is afraid that he’s angry, knowing this wasn’t a part of any plan, at least not now. “I thought I was protected but it must’ve failed. I should’ve been more careful. I know this is the last thing you need right now, what with getting ready to go to Mandalore and everything.”

You swallow. “I-I wanted to tell you earlier, but I was freaking out. I was scared. I’m still scared. I know we kept Grogu alive, but this…this is a baby. A _human_ baby. How in Malachor are we supposed to be responsible for another human being? Sometimes I feel like I can’t even be responsible for myself. I mean, what are we going to do?” You’re blabbering on, spilling out all your thoughts. You realize that Din hasn’t moved, hasn’t even turned to look at you. You cannot gauge what he’s thinking. “Din? Talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking. Please.”

Your heart is thumping against your chest as you stand there, waiting for him to say or do anything. He is still for another moment before he turns and looks at you, his eyes glistening with tears that hadn’t yet spilled. “I’m thinking you just made me the happiest man in the entire galaxy, cyar’ika.”

A large, pent up breath escapes your lips, feeling a huge weight come off your chest. “Really?”

Din nods as he steps to you. He puts his arms around you, pulling you into a much-needed hug. You feel your worries start to melt away as he kisses the side of your head. His hold on you tightens and you hear him let out a sob, causing tears to stream down your face as well. After a moment, he pulls back and gives you a wet kiss, tears falling on your joined mouths. When your lips unlock, he sinks to his knees, holding onto your hips.

“Ad’ika…” he whispers to your stomach. _Daughter. Son. Child._ He kisses you just below your bellybutton before burying his face into you, quietly weeping with joy.

A tearful smile is on your face. Lovingly, you lay your hands on his shoulders. You take a step back and sink to your knees in front of him. You lay your forehead against his, closing your eyes, savoring the tender moment. Tears slowly roll down your cheeks.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” Din whispers. He lays a hand on your face, his thumb rubbing your tear-stained cheek. “I will hold you both in my heart – forever.”

You let out a sob, your hands sliding down to his chest, feeling the metal of his chestplate, warm from the sun. “I love you so much, Din.”

“Cyar’ika…” He cups your face with both hands. You look at him with wet eyes. “I know this all seems terrifying, but I don’t want you to be afraid. We will figure things out along the way, even if we have no idea what we’re doing right now.”

You nod.

“No one really knows what in Malachor they’re doing, so it’ll be okay for us.”

You laugh, looking at him in awe and surprise. “When did you become the rational one?”

Din shrugs. “About the time you told me you’re pregnant.”

“Well, that’s good,” you chuckle. “I’m not sure I’ll be very sensible once these pregnancy hormones really kick in.”

“Well, I promise to try not to upset you.”

“And I promise I won’t ever try to kill you in a fit of hormonal rage.”

Din laughs as he reaches down and grabs your hand. He plants a kiss on your fingers, then returns your hand to your lap, still grasping it. You look down, seeing the ring on your left hand.

He must see you staring down because he says, “I told you not to worry, cyar’ika…”

You look back up at him. “I’m not worrying. I just…I don’t want to wait. To get married, I mean, we’re practically married as it is. We may as well pull the trigger. Make it official.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like things are moving too fast.”

“I’m sure.” You’re certain this is what you want. “How soon could we do it?”

“Today if you wanted to.”

You laugh. “I mean, really.”

“Today. Right here. Right now,” Din reiterates. “In Mandalore, if you say you’re married, you’re married. You make a verbal commitment to one another, that’s all. No formalities. No witnesses. No giant ceremony. You can say the vows any time, any day, and you’re married.”

You push yourself back, looking at him with your eyebrows skewed. “Bantha shit.”

“I’m serious.”

You let out a simple, low laugh, as if you think he’s crazy. “You’re not intending to marry me right here, right now, are you? Dressed like this, looking like this, the taste of vomit still in my mouth?”

“You’re beautiful.” Din smiles. “But no, not if you don’t want to.”

“I mean, I said I don’t want to wait, but I could use a day or two.” You smile, trying to wrap your head around the craziness of all this.

“And leave you time to come to your senses and reconsider? No way.” Din smirks.

“I won’t change my mind,” you reply confidently. “I told you you’re stuck with me.”

“Good.” Din smirks. “Name a time and a place, and I’m all yours.”

You rack your brain, quickly planning your ideal shotgun wedding. “Naboo,” you respond simply, thinking of how you’ve always dreamed of visiting the planet, of having a beautiful outdoor wedding in a place that didn’t involve sand. “Let’s get married on Naboo.”

Din nods. “Alright. Naboo it is. We could be there tomorrow.”

“What about Bo-Katan?” you question, not forgetting about your plans.

“You really think I wouldn’t be willing to take a detour for our _wedding_?” Din questions, as if surprised that you would even ask. “Fuck Bo-Katan.”

“I’d rather you didn’t, remember?” You think back to the time he told you he was considering marrying Bo-Katan. How has so much changed in just a matter of months?

He chuckles, taking your hand in his. “You and this baby are my only priorities, cyar’ika.”

You nod. “I know.”

He stands, still holding you. “Come. Naboo is waiting for us.”


	6. Aay'han

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Aay'han - _[AY-ye-haan]_ \- bittersweet perfect moment of mourning and joy. Remembering and celebrating.
> 
> You help Din come to terms with his past before starting your future together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of fluff then some smut.  
> Very brief mention of past thoughts of suicide. Blink and you'll miss it, but just want you to know it's there.

It’s afternoon when you land in Theed. The city is located between the rich green grass plains of Naboo, filled with colorful flowers and trees and water features amongst the beautiful beige buildings.

Din takes you to a hotel on the edge of the city, the end opposite of the hangar where you land. You don’t complain about the long walk, using it as an opportunity to take in the sites. You never dreamed that you would see such a place. You’re in awe, wanting to admire every detail.

You try to get Din to talk, but he is mostly silent as he glances around, his body seeming rigid. For the time being, you don’t press, too distracted by the beauty of the city.

You’re almost disappointed when you reach the hotel, wishing you could walk and see more, but the room is just as beautiful. It’s large, open, and airy. A glassless arched window allows the sun to pour inside, the cream-colored walls of the room bathed in its rays. You’re immediately drawn to it. The walk from the ship only allowed you a small glimpse of what the planet has to offer. You’ve only dipped your toe in, and now you’re eager to bathe in the radiance, drown in the planet’s beauty. 

The window overlooks a tributary of the Solleu River, the water wrapping around an island before plunging off a cliff the city sits on. To the left, you can only make out trees that line the cliff. To the right, the domed towers of the palace rise in the distance, peaking above the trees. You close your eyes, listening to the rushing of the nearby waterfall and the chirping of birds. You could easily fall asleep listening to it.

Din approaches you from behind and wraps his arms around your waist, his body pressed against your back.

“Can I at least hold you, cyar’ika?” Din asks. “I just need to feel you.”

“Of course,” you respond. Inwardly, you’re confused as to why he wants to hold you so badly, especially when he was acting so cold once you landed in the city, but you don’t question him. He has his grouchy moments, likely due to hunger or fatigue.

You turn and wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a hug. You wish he wasn’t wearing his armor so you could fully feel his body against yours. You lightly run a hand up and down his back, feeling what you can.

His hold on you is tight, secure. He feels your hair and kisses your head before laying a cheek against you.

“Is everything alright?” you question, pulling away from him after a minute or two.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

 _Fine._ That dreaded word. The word that tells you everything is not in fact fine. He gives you a smell smile, but something about his eyes tells you he’s not okay.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” he replies unyieldingly. He quickly changes the subject. “You’ve said you’ve never seen a waterfall. How does it feel to be atop one?”

“A little terrifying,” you admit, turning around to face the window. “I’m afraid I’ll fall out and plunge to my death.”

He grabs your waist, pulling you into him, his hold snug. “I won’t let that happen.”

“Good.”

“It’s a bit of a change from your home planet, isn’t it?” he asks, his head resting against yours

Your eyes trace the colorful flowers dotting the green grass in the center of the water outside. The trees sway with the slight breeze. You deeply inhale, taking in a strong, sweet aroma from whatever plants are growing. You are entranced by it all, intoxicated by the beauty. It was much different and far better than all the sand dunes and hot suns that you’re accustomed to.

“A fair bit,” you finally respond. “I’ll take Naboo over Tatooine any day.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“Do you remember much of your home?”

It’s not until after the question has already escaped your lips that you realize what you had asked. You freeze, your eyes wide. You remember him telling you of the place where he was born, how it was destroyed by an army of droids, how the attack led to the death of his parents and nearly his own.

You turn in his arms and face him, looking up at him with soft eyes. You watch as water collects in his eyes as he stares, as if lost in the depths of his thoughts. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…,” you begin.

“No,” he responds simply, shaking his head, seeming to snap back to the present. “I remember nothing. It was long ago. I was young.”

You gaze up at him, wondering if he’s being completely truthful. You can remember parts of your early childhood. Even if they’re just tiny glimpses, they’re still there, embedded in your memory. Plus, he seemed to remember so much of the day the droids attacked his settlement, when the Mandalorians saved him. How could he remember that but nothing else? To not even remember enough of what his planet looked like to tell you something, anything?

Briefly, you contemplate whether you should push it or let it go. On one hand, if he’s hiding something from you, it should be up to him to decide whether he wants to talk about things. On the other, you wonder if he ever even processed his past, accepted it, done anything to properly move past it. He had admitted that you were the only person he’s ever told of his planet of birth, of its destruction, of the things he saw. Surely it was traumatizing, and he never had anyone to help him through the trauma. He must’ve kept it to himself for two, maybe even three, decades. If there’s anyone he would and should talk to, if there’s anyone who could help him, it would be his future wife.

“You grew up in a place called Aq Vetina, right?” you question. “Have you never wanted to go back? To visit where you were raised?”

He’s still for a moment before dropping his eyes. He takes a deep breath, then turns and walks away. He walks to the table in the middle of the room and runs a gloved finger along the dark, rich wood. “When a person becomes Mandalorian, their past is erased. It’s like getting a clean slate. A fresh start,” he informs you. He turns and looks at you. “I erased my past, cyar’ika. I honor my parents for giving me life, for their sacrifice, but I have no reason to remember my life before I became a Mandalorian.”

You open your mouth to respond, wanting to argue, wanting to force him to open to you. Instead, you close your mouth once more. You know he still thinks of his past, and a part of you is hurt that he won’t talk about it, not even with you. _We have to let each other in. No secrets, remember?_ At the same time, you accept that it’s his past, his trauma, and if he wants to talk, he will. All you can do is wait until he’s ready. He let you in once. Surely, he’d do it again.

You walk over to him, then reach out and touch his arm. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here, Din. I’ll always be here for you.”

He nods, then takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “We shouldn’t be thinking of the past, cyar’ika.” He grabs you from his arm and squeezes. “We should be looking to the future.”

You nod, forcing a slight smile on your face. You never meant to bring up painful memories, but now that you did, you wish you could resolve things. However, you know you can’t fix everything. There’s no sense is being upset. This is supposed to be a happy time. You’re getting married after all.

“What are you planning to wear tomorrow?” he questions, changing the subject as he pulls out a chair from the table and takes a seat.

“I…I don’t know.”

“You probably should know, don’t you think?” He grins. “I want you to feel as beautiful as I think you are.” You smile, and he adds, “You should consider going to the plaza. Enjoy the city and see if you can find something in a shop somewhere.”

“And what if I don’t find anything?” you question, smiling slyly, as you lower yourself on him, straddling him as he sits in the chair.

“Then I’ll just have to marry you naked.”

You laugh. “Well, in that case, I don’t think I can find a single thing to wear. Damn.”

“I have my armor,” he laughs, pointing to the beskar adorning his body. “Looks like it’ll just be you without clothes. Sorry, cyar’ika.”

You giggle and run your fingertips lightly along his chestplate. “ _If_ I go, what will you do while I’m gone?”

“Think of you.”

“You are so pathetic,” you tease before kissing his forehead.

“I know. Now go, cyar’ika. Enjoy yourself.”

\--

Something about Naboo is soft and comfortable. You can’t quite put your finger on it but assume it’s everything all together. The buildings’ delicate color schemes. Flowering vines freely climbing up the buildings, framing the windows that dot the edifices. Potted plants adding to the vibrancy. Fountains creating a lovely backdrop to the ambient noise. The way the air always smells like fresh flowers with a hint of water no matter where you are.

You cross a bridge ornamented with intricate designs and follow the pathway to an area filled with shops and people. You hear a genre of music you’ve never heard before and spot street musicians playing for money. Your eyes then move to the windows of the shops.

The romance of the city nearly melts your cares away. But you can’t help worrying about Din. You wish he was with you, holding your hand as you walked along the city. You’d hope it would provide the peace and relaxation that he needs, freeing him of whatever’s on his mind.

You stumble upon an outfitter with beautifully dressed mannequins in the window. You enter the store and run your fingers across the soft fabrics of dresses of all sorts of bright, beautiful colors. You’re unsure what you’re even interested in. Besides the time on Canto Bight, you haven’t worn many dresses, at least none that weren’t anything more than plain and practical, and this dress matters much more than any you’ve ever worn before.

“Can I help you with something, child?” an elderly woman asks you.

“I…I’m looking for a gown,” you reply awkwardly.

“Of course you are, child, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Is there a special occasion for which the gown is needed?”

“A wedding, I suppose,” you respond.

“You suppose?” She seems confused.

“I mean, there’s not going to much of a ceremony. Not a large one at least. It’s something intimate. Just Din – my, um, betrothed – and me. We’re to be married here on Naboo. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Oh, my dear. Goodness. Why didn’t you tell me sooner? We have no time to waste. Come, come.” The shop owner whisks you away to the back, to a room that’s more private. She stands you in front of a mirror and observes you. “Hmm… Let me see, let me see.” She looks you over. You gently and awkwardly play with the ring on your finger, not liking her attention fixed on you, wishing you didn’t feel like a bloated mess. “Forgive me if I’m too forward, but are you with child, my dear?”

“How…I…Yes.”

“Then nothing too tight around the stomach. We’ll accentuate” -she gestures around your breasts- “elsewhere.”

You laugh, feeling the tension melt away. “Yes, that would be good.”

“I think I have something that will suit you nicely.” She disappears and you hear her rummaging through the racks of clothes. After several minutes, she appears with a gown laying across her arms.

“Put this on, dear.”

She leaves as you slip off your clothes and put on the dress, returning to help you zip up. The gown flows down your body, covering your feet, no enormously long train, or anything otherwise heavy. The neckline is cut like a “V,” not outrageously deep and offering a bit of sexiness with a little bit of modesty. The sleeves fall loosely into folds over your upper arms, tapering around the back. The soft, thin fabric follows a similar folded pattern down the sides, while the front is trimmed with ornate beads. You must admit to yourself that you look breathtakingly gorgeous. You almost don’t recognize yourself.

“Well? Am I good or no?”

“You’re good,” you respond, beaming.

“I know, darling. Let’s tailor it to you a little more and you’ll be on your way to wedded bliss.” She fusses with the skirt of your dress, grabbing from her pocket the tools needed to make it fit you like a glove. “Tell me about your husband-to-be. How long have you known him? How did you lovebirds meet? And don’t spare the details, dear. I have all day.”

You smile and blush, remembering the day you met Din so clearly. It was all Peli’s doing. It had been your day off and you were lounging at home when she sent you a message to come to Hanger 35. Thinking something went haywire, you rushed there, but found her holding a little green stranger. She introduced you to Grogu while Din was on a mission on Tatooine. He instantly become smitten with you, and you with him, those eyes, those ears, his curiosity, the way he played with your hair.

Peli mentioned that his father was looking for a minder and suggested that he was interested in you. You could offer services as a mechanic for his ship, which so desperately needed work, in addition to babysitter. You were hesitant, not sure what you thought at the idea of traveling with a stranger, but she vouched for him and reminded you of your hunger for adventure. So you agreed.

The moment you met Din was filled with various emotions. You were surprised and confused to find that the kid’s father was not some little green alien like he was, but a large figure – taller than you - in shiny armor and faceless. Peli had left those details out. You were embarrassed when she introduced you and suggested that you were interested in joining him as a caretaker and mechanic, making it clear that Din never once before suggested he was looking for anyone, confirmed by his hesitance to take you on. But he eventually agreed anyway, seeing the way Grogu trusted you already and Peli’s insistence.

“And the rest is history,” you respond, relaying everything as the seamstress sews the hem of your dress.

“Shiraya willing, I’ve got to find me a Mandalorian.”

You laugh.

“So if you’re from Tatooine, and he’s from Mandalore, what brings you to Naboo?” she questions.

“Oh, no, Din isn’t from Mandalore. He was raised by Mandalorians on Nevarro. He was born in a settlement named Aq Vetina, but his parents were killed in an attack, and he was taken in as a foundling.”

The woman stops and looks up at you, her eyes filled with pity. “Shiraya’s word,” she says in shock. “I’m so sorry to hear that. The people of Naboo are no strangers to the causalities and suffering of the Clone Wars. The Separatist attack on Aq Vetina was just one of so many. Even after so many years, hearing of a someone who was lost stings no less.”

“You know of Aq Vetina?” you question, looking down at the woman as she returns to her sewing.

“Of course, child,” she responds simply, not looking up from her work. “I’ve never been myself but it’s one of the largest producers of wine on the planet.”

You’re stunned and bewildered. You try to make sense of what she’s telling you. You have questions. So many questions. By the way Din talked when he first told you of the attack, you assumed that the entire city was destroyed. “Wait… You’re telling me that Aq Vetina is a settlement on Naboo?”

The seamstress looks up and cocks her head, as if confused as to why you’re so confused. “Where else would it be?”

\--

Your mind is whirling as you walk back to the hotel, dress laid out in a large bag in your arms. You’ve just learned the craziest thing. That Aq Vetina is on Naboo, the very planet that you’re on. That there were survivors, and it rebounded after its attack. The city of Din’s birth is only hours away.

You wonder if knowing that the city survived would make things better or worse. Would he want to see it? Would he even care? He claims that he’s erased his past, that he has no reason to remember his life as a child, but would he want to see the streets his parents walked? Where they died? Where they’re buried?

How do you even bring it up to him?

As you arrive at the hotel, you tell yourself that you won’t say anything right away.

When you enter the room, Din is sitting at a table, cleaning his armor. He looks up at you and smiles, watching as you enter the room and move to the wardrobe to store to dress. “I see you had some luck.”

“Yes. It seems my luck has yet to run dry.” You close the door of the wardrobe and turn to him. You walk over and plant a simple kiss on his cheek. “Did you miss me?”

He lays the piece of the armor he’s cleaning down on the table. Then, he playfully grabs you and pulls you down into his lap. Before you can protest, his lips meet yours. A hand rests on your thigh while the other squeezes a butt cheek, making you squeal before you pull away, smiling.

“You tell me.”

You lay a hand on his chest as you look into his eyes. You can tell he his in a happier mood than you left him in. “I’d say you missed me a little.”

“I’d say I missed you a lot.” Din kisses you one more time, giving you another squeeze.

You pull away and laugh. “Din, quit! Keep it in your pants until we’re married,” you tease.

You laugh inwardly. “I mean. We can at least pretend to do something proper for once. And I-I want it to be special. Our first time as husband and wife.”

“It will be special,” he says, caressing your cheek with the back of two fingers. “With you, it will always be special.” You smile, enjoying the warmth of his touch. He pulls away. “But I respect your wish. The bride should get what she wants.”

You mouth upturns and your cheeks swells with pride. _Bride_. It was the first you had heard the word used to reference you, and you almost can’t believe it. You’re a bride. His bride.

Smiling, you push yourself off him and return to your feet. “Speaking of the baby… I think he’s hungry.” You turn and see a bowl of fruit on the table. You grab a red apple sitting on the top.

“He?” Din questions.

“Mhm,” you respond, taking a bite and chewing.

“A boy?”

“No, a Wookie,” you reply sarcastically.

“If it’s a Wookie, you have _a lot_ of explaining to do,” Din replies.

Laughing, you walk over to the open window and look out into the sunset, the sky painted pink and orange, the sound of crickets chirping audible as the day winds down. “Yes, a boy,” you respond, laying your half-eaten apple down on the ledge of the window. You turn and lean against it, staring at Din. “And he’ll be the spitting image of his father.”

Din chuckles lowly before raising to his feet. “I wish I could agree, cyar’ika,” he says as he walks to you, “But I think our daughter will look exactly like her mother and will be every bit as strong.”

“Who’s the mother then?” you question, looking up at him as he stands in front of you. “Because I know you’re not talking about me. Have you seen my arms?” You flex an arm and point at it, smiling.

He laughs. “Your arms are beautiful, cyar’ika. But I don’t mean physically. I mean in other ways,” he says. “You are far stronger than I’ll ever be. You’re the only one who can make me come to my senses. You always know exactly what to say. You give me a good kick in the ass when I need it.” You laugh. He reaches up and touches your cheek.

“There’s a saying in Mando’a. Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya,” he says slowly. “Train your sons to be strong, but your daughters to be stronger. You will teach her well.”

Your eyes are misted over. You grab him by the shirt and pull him to you, his lips landing on yours. You wrap an arm around his neck, the two of you exchanging kisses that keep deepening until finally you pull away. “Well, it’s a shame it’s not a girl.”

“We’ll see about that,” Din says, grinning.

You crinkle your nose then reach up and touch his face. As you stare at him, your mind tells you to reveal what you know.

He must see your facial expression change because he asks, “What’s troubling you?”

“What’s been troubling _you_?” you question back.

He cocks his head, confused. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been weird ever since we got here.”

“Weird?” He released his hold on you and takes a step back. “Weird how?”

“I don’t know. Just…different,” you respond. “One minute your distant, the next you’re warm. And when I brought up your home, when I mentioned Aq Vetina, you seemed sad.”

“I told you I erased my past,” he says, sounding annoyed.

“That’s impossible,” you respond simply. “You can’t erase your past.”

“Is this really what you want to do the night before our wedding?” he questions. “Bring up shit that doesn’t matter?”

“It matters if it’s still bothering you.”

“Nothing is bothering me.”

“Clearly it is,” you respond. “And I wish you would talk to me about it.”

He’s clearly irritated as he snaps, “The only thing bothering me right now is you trying to dredge up my past.”

You fold your arms angrily in front of you. “Well, I’m sorry that trying to help you makes me a nuisance.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “I didn’t say that you’re a nuisance.”

“You literally just said it.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Din says apologetically. He sighs as he puts his hands on his hips. “Look, I don’t want to fight. I’m just tired. I’m going to shower and go to sleep. You should rest too.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, biting your tongue.

He turns and disappears into the refresher. The moment the door shuts behind him, you walk over to the bed and sit on the edge, releasing a deep breath as you do so. A tear falls down your cheek and you quickly wipe it away. You’re hurt and frustrated, and completely unsure what to do. Tomorrow’s supposed to be your wedding day, but how can you marry someone who won’t be open and honest with you? At the same time, you wonder if maybe you’re just making a huge deal out of nothing.

You change into a nightgown and slip into bed. You lay on your side, feigning sleep, unable to drift off until you know Din’s beside you. He finally comes to bed some time later, a part of you wonder why took him so long. You feel the bed shift as he sits on the edge of his side. You hear him sigh wearily, and it’s several minutes before he finally lays down, keeping his distance from you.

You close your eyes, hoping sleep will do you both good.

\--

The room is chilly, causing you to stir from your slumber. You groggily flip sides and pull the covers closer and tighter to your body, all but your head covered. Laying there, trying to drift back to sleep, you sense that something is off. The bed feels empty beside you. You open your eyes and, through the haziness and disorientation, see Din’s vacant pillow.

You blink the sleep away and push yourself up. The only light in the room is from the moon entering the open window. You blearily make out Din standing at the openings, his body illuminated by the light seeping in. He appears to be wearing only sleep pants, standing with an arm against the edge of the wall, starring out into the darkness.

“Din?” you groggily call out.

He doesn’t move. 

You can tell by his demeanor that something is bothering him, that he’s lost in a daze. Worried, you push yourself out of bed and slowly approach him from the side. You reach out and touch his shoulder, feeling the goosebumps that have formed on his skin from the crisp night air. He seems to snap back to the present the moment your skin meets his, his muscles relaxing under your touch.

“Talk to me, Din,” you plead, your voice low and concerned. “What’s bothering you?”

He turns his head to look at you. “Nothing, cyar’ika,” he responds, giving you an unconvincing smile. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

You ignore his question, instead responding, “You know I know that ‘nothing’ is never nothing.”

He turns his head to look back outside. “I know. But it really was nothing. Just a dream.”

“Tell me about it.” He is silent, causing you to adamantly add, “Din, we’re supposed to be getting married tomorrow. Or today, depending on the time. You can talk to me about anything.”

“I don’t want to burden you with anything,” Din responds. “Especially before the wedding.”

“You are not a burden,” you inform him. “I love you more than anything. You are going to be my husband and I expect nothing less than open and honest communication with one another. Let me help you carry the weight of things that are too heavy for you to lift alone.”

Din takes a deep breath and immediately lets it out as he lowers his head. “I’m sorry I lied to you about not remembering anything about Aq Vetina,” he apologizes, seeming ashamed as he turns and looks at you. “Of course I remember. It’s hard to forget when it comes to me so often in my dreams. But the dreams…the dreams always turn into nightmares, and I can never seem to remember anything but the negatives. I can only see the destruction, the deaths, the desolation. I’ve tried so hard to erase it for my memory, but it always finds a way back.”

“You can’t even change or erase your past. But you also can’t let it imprison you. How often are you having these nightmares?” you question.

He shrugs. “More often than I care to.” He looks back outside. “I haven’t thought about it much recently. The nightmares seemed to lessen after you, after Tatooine. But something about Naboo… Ever since we landed, I’ve felt this sense of familiarity. I don’t know what it is, but it’s like I’ve been here before.”

You cross your arms and hug them close to your chest. You know you must tell him what you know. “Maybe you have been.”

He shakes his head. “No. I’ve never even been to Naboo. I rarely ever leave the Outer Rim, you know that.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You open your eyes, release, and say, “Din, you were born here.”

He turns to you, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Aq Vetina is a settlement here on Naboo.”

“How do you know that?”

“The outfitter. I told her about us, about you, where you’re from. She knew about the Separatist attack. There were survivors, Din. The city wasn’t destroyed, and it rose from the ashes. It’s thriving. And it isn’t far from Theed. Maybe a couple hours away by ship.”

His confusion intensifies for a moment. He moves across the room and takes a seat at the table, resting his elbow on it and rubbing his forehead with his hand. You watch as he tries to put the pieces of the puzzle together in his mind, everything suddenly seeming to make sense. Finally, he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I tried to last night, but you…” You stop and shake your head, not wanting to bring up last night any further. “I’m sorry. But this is why we have to be honest with one another. I know it’s hard. I know it must be terrifying to share your past. But I think the only way of letting go is by first confronting it.”

“Confronting it?”

You move to him and kneel beside him, laying your hands on his lap as you look up. “Sometimes the only way people can move forward is by revisiting the things in their past that’s holding them back. Maybe seeing the city in its original state, as you knew it as a child, will help trigger happier memories for you, to help replace all the things giving you nightmares, making you uneasy. Or maybe we can form new memories there. Maybe seeing the city overcome its past will help you realize that you too can move on from it, grow from it as well.”

He seems to be considering the idea. “The wedding…”

  
“Can wait,” you assure him. “You said it yourself: we can say our vows any time, any day. I think we should deal with the past before we move forward with the future. Then you can have the fresh start that you want. You don’t have to decide right now. I know it’s a lot. Sleep on it, and we can talk more about it in the morning if you want. I will support whatever you want to do. Okay?”

He nods.

You give him a small smile before standing. “Come back to bed with me?” You hold out your hand. He hesitates for a moment before taking it. He stands and you lead him to the bed, where you crawl in, him behind you. You wiggle yourself close to him, grabbing his hand and pulling his arm over your waist. You don’t let go of him, feeling the warmth of his skin on yours, his hot breath on the back of your neck as you close your eyes and, despite your wandering mind, slowly drift to sleep.

\--

When you wake again, you hear birds chirping outside. You open your eyes, the room beginning to be illuminated by the little rays of sunshine seeping in. Once more, Din is not in bed with you. You immediately sit up, you find him sitting near the table, putting on his boots. You’re relieved to see him.

“Going somewhere?” you question, pushing yourself out of bed.

He glances up at you upon hearing your voice. He seems tired, making you wonder if he slept at all. “Cyar’ika,” he greets before going back to dressing himself. “It’s early. You should get more rest.”

You walk over to him and plant a small kiss on his forehead before pulling away. “I should say the same to you. Where are you going so early?”

He doesn’t look up or respond as he puts on the last of his leg armor.

“You’re going to Aq Vetina, aren’t you?” You cross your arms, staring down at him. “I told you I would support whatever you want to do, but were you just going to leave me here?”

He sighs as he stands, grabbing a glove off the table and putting it on. “I just…With the baby, I don’t think you should travel more than necessary.”

“If this baby has even an ounce of his father in him, he’ll be fine,” you respond. “We’ll both be fine. However, I will not be the least bit fine if you jilt me on what was supposed to be our wedding day and go off on your own little adventure.”

A very subtle smile appears over his face. “I’m not jilting you,” he says. “I just don’t want you to feel like I’m dragging you along.”

Your tone sounds frustrated. “Did you miss the part where I said _we_? That _we_ would deal with this together? You’re crazy if you think I’m going to let you deal with this alone.” You stare at him, quickly softening as you realize there’s no reason to be angry with him. You know he doesn’t always think clearly, and he was only trying to act in the best interest of you and your unborn child.

Exhaling, you take a step towards him, then reach up and lay your right hand on his face. His facial hair is slightly longer than usual, causing you to notice that he has a little patch where hair doesn’t grow. You lightly thumb it. He closes his eyes for a moment, savoring your touch, only opening them once you speak again.

“I _want_ to be there for you. And I’m _going_ to be there to support you, as your future wife should.”

He nods. “I don’t deserve you, cyar’ika.”

“You’re more than deserving,” you assure him, lightly cupping his face. You pull him in and plant a light kiss on his lips. “Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“I’ll get dressed, we can eat, then we can be on our way. Sound like a plan?”

\--

Din opts to travel by air, considering the city is halfway across the planet. He punches in the coordinates that the owner of the hangar gave you before boarding the ship, and soon you’re on your way.

The ride is quiet. He seems focused on flying the ship through the sky, but you know his mind is elsewhere. You wish you could get him to talk, at the very least provide a distraction, but you don’t know what to say. Instead, you just watch as you fly above the clouds.

After two hours, you finally come upon a medium-sized town with various size buildings. Surrounding the city are rolling hills with rows and rows of fields, filled with vegetation that you assume is grapevines, considering you’re in wine country. On the outskirts of town, past one of the fields, is a massive lake. From the air, it’s breathtaking.

From the ground, it’s just as beautiful, if not more.

You grab a hold of Din’s hand as the two of you disembark the ship and follow a wide path, walled in by fields of fruit. Purple clusters contrast against the greens and yellows and browns of the vines. The morning air is crisp, filled with an elusive scent. It’s a sweet floral note underscored by a deeper earthy character. It is fleeting and not overwhelming, the scent cradling you in its arm and almost comforting you.

You turn your head and look at him as you walk. He’s in full armor, so you’re unable to gauge what he’s feeling or thinking. A part of you wants to tell him to take off the helmet, to experience everything as he last experienced it – with his naked eyes – but you understand that he’s doing what makes him comfortable.

“Are you sure about this?” you question, squeezing his hand.

He stops, causing you to stop as well. He is quiet, prompting you to add, “If you want to go back, I understand.”

“No. I mean, I’m okay. I just…I remember playing here as a kid. I…” He shakes his head and laughs. “I think I got into a lot of trouble in these fields.”

“You? Trouble? No,” you reply sarcastically, smiling.

He begins to walk again, and you follow, watching him as he looks out at the plants. He begins to chuckle again.

“What is it?”

“I remember this…folklore, I guess you could call it. Legend had it that there once was a man who could fit over a hundred grapes in his mouth at once. A boy once challenged me to try to break the record. I guess, even as a kid, I was not one to back down from a challenge.”

“Well? Did you break the record?”

“I got to ten before I nearly chocked,” he responds. “To be fair, I was a small kid.”

“So you were close at least,” you tease, giggling.

As you get close to the city, you hear a bell chime multiple times, indicating the hour. A tall yet thinly domed structure looms in the middle of the city, one that reminds you of a spire on the palace in Theed. You assume it must be a clocktower.

“I think there’s a tradition amongst the people here. At the end of the year, when the clock strikes midnight, you’re meant to eat twelve grapes. One for each stroke of midnight. It’s believed that if you didn’t, you’ll poison the fate of the upcoming year.”

“Twelve grapes in just as many seconds? Fuck that. I would never have a good year.”

Din chuckles as the two of you climb steps and pass through an archway, entering the city. “Come with me, cyar’ika,” he says, grabbing you by the hand once more. “I want to see something.”

You nod.

Din walks with determination, you trying to keep up so he’s not dragging you along as the two of you snake through the city. As you walk, you observe your surroundings. The buildings are nearly identical as to those in Theed, made of a polished, light brown to yellow sandstone, many topped with green domes. Green vines grow up the sides of the structures while potted plants are scattered, sitting in near every corner or near every entryway. The windows are similarly open, either arched or thin and rectangular. You understand why Naboo felt so homely to him.

However, Aq Vetina is much quieter and far more serene than the capitol city. There are few people walking the streets, those you pass adorned in red clothing of various styles, most with hoods. You are met with stares from children who stop from their play to look in awe. Several adults appear to give gracious nods and bows as you pass, as if Din reminds them of what the Mandalorians once did for their city, for them.

Din takes you to the opposite side of the city from where you entered. You exit through another archway and down another set of steps, taking you to the top of rolling vineyards that lead to the massive lake. You take in the view, looking out at the blue water that seems to extend for miles before disappearing, tree-filled mountains rising high to the skies on the other side of the water.

“This is…wow,” is all you can manage to say at first. You let go of his hand and take a step closer, looking it all over. “You grew up _here_?” you question in awe, turning to him.

For the first time since landing, Din removes his helmet, taking it in his hand and lowering it to his side, seeming almost as equally in awe as you. “I’ve dreamt of this place so often I began to wonder if it’s real. Seeing it… If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.”

You smile meekly as you reach out and touch his arm, assuring him, “It’s real.”

He looks at you, smiling softly. But his eyes quickly divert, looking behind you with a bewildered look.

“What’s wrong?” you question.

“I just…I’ve never seen this before,” he says, moving past you.

You turn and follow him down a path that leads to a tall, narrow monument. It’s at least five times your height, it’s pointed peak peeking out from the green trees that surround it. It reminds you of monuments scattered throughout the capitol.

Din stops at the monument. You stand beside him, examining it. Carved into the sandstone is the figure of a winged woman brandishing a moon-shaped symbol. You’ve seen statues of the figure around Theed and assume it’s one of the deities worshipped by the people of Naboo. What was the name the dressmaker kept saying? Shiraya?

Directly below the figure is a prayer which reads, “Glory to the withering and the flowering. After the last flames, carry our ashes, guide our being to the ancestors, and return us in our descendants.”

Below that is an inscription: “Dedicated to the innocent victims of war, many of whom went to the common grave nameless and unknown, or never knew a grave at all. Let this be a gravestone for each man, woman, and child killed during the Attack on Aq Vetina, 19 BBY.” You quickly calculate the date as thirty years prior.

As you finish reading, you turn to look at Din, finding that he has taken a knee at the base of the memorial, a hand resting against it. Slowly, sympathetically, you drop beside him.

“Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum,” he whispers. _I’m still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal._ You watch as he closes his eyes and bows his head. Seconds later, his shoulders shake, and you realize he is crying.

Immediately, you crawl in front of him and wrap your arms around him. He buries his head in your shoulder as he clings to you, his cries intensifying as the safety you provide allows him to release his pent-up emotions. You bring a hand up to his head, feeling his hair as you console him, your heart breaking for him.

“I’m here. It’ll be okay. I promise,” you say as tears fall down your face. As you hold him, you wonder if this was the right choice, bringing him here. You fear that all you did was make things worse, forcing him to remember things he so desperately wanted to escape. You want to apologize for everything. For telling him about Aq Vetina, for bringing him here, for the fact that he’s hurting. But you don’t. Instead, you cry with him, feeling all his pain, wishing you could wash it away with your tears.

After some time, you’re unsure how long, he falls silent and you feel his body relax. Finally, he pushes himself back and you look into his eyes, bloodshot and raw, his face wet. You bring both hands to his face, wiping away the trails of his tears as you gaze at him, wondering if you should speak, what you should even say.

“Do you want to talk?” you finally question, wanting him to take the lead. You don’t want to force him to say or do anything he doesn’t want to do.

Din nods, then moves to sit on the ground, an arm sitting on a bent knee.

You sit with your knees under you, your butt touching your heels. Patiently, you wait for him to say something, anything, whatever’s on his mind.

After a moment, Din finally inhales, then slowly exhales. “Thirty years, cyar’ika,” he says. “I’ve carried this weight for thirty kriffing years.”

“I know,” you coo. “I-I’ve told you before that you’re old. I just didn’t realize that you’re ancient.”

Din can’t help but chuckle, your words breaking the tension, even if only for a moment.

“I was a different person before I met you, cyar’ika,” he admits. “Before I met Grogu, even. I was…a shell of a person. I was lost and alone. I felt like I never had control over my life, like my path was chosen for me, and I spent so long angry at the universe. Angry that I was brought into this lifestyle. Angry that a simple life was stolen from me. I channeled that anger into the way I fought, the way I handled quarries. I was ruthless, merciless, sometimes reckless.”

Din looks down, as if ashamed. “Some days I wished the Mandalorians had never saved me, had just left me in that cellar with that fucking battle droid. Other days I hoped I would fuck up and a quarry would kill me. I had nothing worth living for. But that brought more guilt and shame and fear. My parents saw me as worth dying for, and if I died, what would I have accomplished? Would I had lived a life that made them proud? So, I tried to prove that they didn’t die in vain. I had to be the best fighter, the best hunter in the parsec. Failure was never an option because should I fail, then my parents died saving someone who’s less than worthy.”

You understand now why Din always seem to leery of change: a deeply ingrained fear of failing, fear of making his parents’ death meaningless. You reach out and hold his hand. “You’re more than worthy, Din.”

“I know,” he whispers tearily.

“I’m so sorry you felt that way,” you comfort following silence. “But everything you felt, anything you still feel, is valid.”

“I know.”

“Your grief runs so deeply because your love for your parents runs deeply. And they must’ve loved you very much as well.”

He nods. “I blamed myself for their deaths,” Din confesses. “Despite the urgency, they both said goodbye before hiding me. My mother hugged me tightly and my father held me, kissed me, told me that he loved me and to be brave. As I climbed in, my mother told me she loved me one last time. She quickly shut one of the doors, but my father hesitated. I reached out to him, called for him, and he seemed to second guess their decision to leave me. What if hadn’t made it so difficult for them? What if they had left sooner? Would they have survived?”

“You can’t think that way. You can’t blame yourself for your parents loving you,” you say. “Leaving you was probably the hardest decision they ever had to make. But any parent would willingly give up their life for their child. I pray that we will never have to make that sort of choice, but maybe one day”-you cradle your lower stomach with your hand- “we will understand why they did it.”

“I think I already understand,” Din replies. “I don’t know how it’s possible to love someone I haven’t even met yet, but I do. Unconditionally. And I would do anything to protect you both.”

You smile as your heart melts.

“You changed my life, cyra’ika. From the moment I met you, everything started to change. I felt things I’d never felt for a person before. Your charm, your laughter, your smile. The way you interacted with Grogu, held him, sang him to sleep at night. You made it so easy to fall in love with you. You came into my life and helped me carry the weight on my shoulders without asking for anything in return. You helped me see a future worth living.”

He takes your hand in his. “And now, you’re giving me a child. My child. _Our_ child. I will do anything to ensure she” -he sees the look you’re giving him, indicating you still feel it’s a boy- “ _or he_ ” -you smile in satisfaction- “will never feel a fraction of the pain I suffered for so long.”

You give him a light squeeze. “We will be perfectly happy, Din. The three of us.”

Din nods. “I’m taking control of the future, and I swear to you, cyar’ika, that I will never let any of us get within a parsec of harm’s way. My only priorities are you and this child. Not Mandalore, not the Mandalorians, not Bo-Katan. Just our family. If I could throw the kriffing Darksaber in the lake, I would.”

You laugh, tears escaping your eyes when you blink.

“I don’t care if we live on Mandalore or Nevarro or Naboo or Sorgan or, fuck, even Malachor. All that matters is I’m with you, and that we’re happy. Because home isn’t a place, cyar’ika; it’s a person. And you…you are my home.”

You swallow hard, fighting back more tears. “And you’re mine.”

Din reaches up and wipes the tear away. “I love you. Forever,” he says, his eyes dazzling.

“I love you too.”

You share a sloppy but beautiful kiss.

After you pull away, Din asks, “Will you walk with me?”

You nod.

He pushes himself off the ground, grabbing his helmet as he does so. He offers you his hand, which you take. After standing and brushing the dirt of your clothes, you take his hand back, and the two of you walk with your fingers intertwined. To your delight, he carries his helmet tucked in his arm, wanting to gaze at his face.

The two of you move toward the way you came, but instead of returning to the city, you turn and follow a stone path through the vineyard that leads down to the lake. As you near the water, a slight breeze causes you to catch a whiff of a fishy odor. You slow your gate and bring your hand to your mouth, the smell making you nauseous.

“Are you okay, cyar’ika?” Din questions. “Is it the smell?”

You nod.

“We can go back.”

You shake your head. “No, I’ll be fine. Just distract me. Tell me something. Anything.”

“Have you-um-Have you…. Oh, have you ever heard of a game called kaadu-and-aliens, cyar’ika?”

You shake your head, prompting him to launch into an explanation of a game played by children on Naboo. As you leisurely stroll, moving from directly along the lake to a pathway between two grapevines, your nausea starts to pass. You’re delighted by the things he has shared with you. In return, you share memories of games you played growing up on Tatooine.

“I used to have this creepy little toy that looked like an eyeball,” you eventually tell him.

“You what?” he questions, laughing.

“It was called the Eye of Mesra. You’d ask it a question, and it would respond with a yes, no, or maybe type answer. I used to pretend to be a seer and go around telling people their fortunes.” Hearing Din laugh more, you add, “It’s strange, I know, but it’s rooted in an old desert tradition.”

“Ah, I see,” Din responds. “From the Great Mesra Plateau perhaps?”

“Yes,” you respond, looking at him. “Do you know it?”

“You act like I haven’t spent a lot of time on Tatooine,” he responds. “The guild used to operate there, you know.”

“Well, excuse me for not knowing your life,” you reply sarcastically.

He chuckles. “I ran into some crazy cultists in a cave worshipping the skull of a Krayt dragon there once while doing some work for the Hutts.”

“Crazy cultists? Really? Are you seriously the one to call a cult crazy, Mr. The Helmet Stays On?” you question, smiling.

“Hey, I didn’t have much of a choice about joining that cult,” Din says, trying not to laugh. “And it could’ve been worse. I could have been saved by Gungans or something.”

“I mean, you are from Naboo. How do I know you’re not part Gungan?” You look at him, then begin speaking in an annoying voice. “Mesa Din Djarin. Husa are yousa?” you tease.

“Why does everyone assume I’m a fucking Gungan?” he questions, trying to hide his laughter.

“Hmm. Mesa think it could be true,” you keep teasing.

Din glares at you from the corner of his eye, but you can tell he’s trying not to crack a smile. “If it’s true, you’re the one who fucked a Gungan.”

You cringe and laugh at the thought of it. “Oh no! Mesa thinks mesa gonna come.”

After a few steps, you realize Din has stopped, causing you to turn and look at him. He shakes his head, trying to look angry. “Quit it, cyar’ika,” he warns, but you know he’s barely able to maintain a serious tone.

“Dissen gonna be messy.”

Din playfully lunges toward you, but you scream and jump backwards out of his reach. Before he can grab a hold of you, you turn and run away, cackling as you run down the long dirt path.

“Uh-oh! Mesa in trouble now!” you shout between fits of laughter. Looking back, you see that he’s following.

Before you know it, you feel Din’s arms wrapping around you, causing you to stop as you squeal with laughter. He starts tickling you, remembering your ticklish spot down by your hips. Carefully, you fall to your knees, tears falling from your eyes as you reach up and grab ahold of his arms. “Okay! I’ll stop! I’ll stop!” 

He stops and holds you from behind, catching your infectious laughter. “Are you okay?” he questions as his laughter slows, burying his head in the back of your head. “I-I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Stop worrying so much,” you reply between breaths and giggles, holding onto his hands as they rest on your waist.

“Never,” he replies, pulling your body closer to him. He pushes strands of hair that have fallen loose away from your neck and plants a soft kiss there. Your laughter dies down, and you turn your head and tilt just enough so your lips can find his. It starts as a small, fleeting kiss, but it quickly turns passionate, hungry. You reach up and feel the back of Din’s head, ruffling his hair as you kiss.

Your other hand reaches behind you, searching for an area of his thigh not covered in armor. The moment you find the fabric of his flight suit Din unlocks his lips. Your eyes search him, wondering why he’d pull away. “That’s dangerous, cyar’ika,” he warns lightheartedly.

“I know,” you reply, looking at him with desire. “I want you. I want to make you cum.”

“Here?” he questions. 

You nod. There’s not a soul in sight, no one currently tending to the field this far away from town. Even if someone was remotely close, the grapevines are tall enough that no one would see you unless they were in the same row.

“I-I don’t know,” he replies nervously. He rubs the nape of his neck with one hand as he pushes himself off the ground and rises to his feet.

You shuffle around on your knees, turning to face him. “Since when are you one to turn down a challenge,” you say seductively, raising your torso. You reach out and undo his pants before looking up at him. You slip a finger inside, lightly running it back and forth along the base of his penis. “I can think of at least one thing you’ve never done in these fields.”

He bites his lower lip as he looks down at you.

You run your finger down his shaft, teasing him before removing him from the opening in his pants. You stroke him lightly, feeling him completely harden in your grip. You move down his length, making the skin taut and exposing more nerve endings before creating a ring with your thumb and index finger at his base. You take him into your mouth momentarily, just long enough to wet the skin.

He hums in approval, but you pull away, forcing him to pop out of your mouth. You wrap your other hand around his head and slide it up and down, your saliva acting as a lubricant so you can slide with ease. Lightly, you twist your one hand as it moves up it down while you lightly squeeze the base with the other. The mix of pressures keeps him alert.

You keep your grip on his base as you remove the other hand, then move your mouth closer to him once more. You kiss his head before looking up at him, your eyes smoldering. Next, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue, placing the head of his cock against it as you look up at him. You slowly move it from side to side, his head sliding against your tongue.

He squeezes the back of your head as if begging for more. “Take me in your mouth, cyar’ika. Please.”

You remove your hand and swallow his shaft, doing exactly what he wants.

“Fuck. You look so pretty like this.”

Your hands bury themselves under the armor on his hips, wishing you could knead his skin. You swirl your tongue wildly around the underside of the head, driving him mad with desire. He groans as you suck more firmly. Your hands slip out from under his armor, grabbing his base with one while cupping his balls with the other. Your touch there takes him by surprise.

“Shit. Fuck.”

You stop at his head and swirl your tongue around it while lightly fondling his balls. You can feel him throbbing inside of you. He thrusts his hips into you, and you begin to move faster.

“I’m going-I’m going to-”

He flexes and balls your hair in his fist, groaning as you bob. You swallow all he has to offer. His knees buckle and he grabs onto your shoulder for support. Before pulling away, you give him one last lick, lapping up the last drip, then let him fall out of your mouth.

“Fuck,” is the only word he can utter between pants. He catches his breath, then adds, “I hope you’re happy. I couldn’t stop thinking ‘Meesa gonna cum’ as I tried to find the words to tell you I was going to finish.”

You laugh as he pushes himself off you and tucks himself back into place. You grab his helmet, which he had apparently dropped before catching you earlier, and rise to your feet. “Not my fault you’ve got Gungan in your blood,” you say, handing him his helmet.

He smiles as he lets out a deep breath. “I-I need to sit down.” 

“You’re welcome.”

He rolls his eyes, then turns moves toward the end of the field.

Before you follow, you turn to a vine a pick a plump and purple grape, which you pop into your mouth. The skin is harder than any you’ve eaten before, but is deliciously and powerfully sweet, oozing in your mouth. You grab a handful, then follow Din’s path, finding him laying back, propped up by his elbows, on a shaded area of grass.

You sit near him. “Try one.” You take a grape from you palm and hold it out for him to take. Instead of taking it from you, he moves his head closer to you and opens his mouth. Giggling, you feed him the grape. “Are you an animal now?”

He closes his eyes as he chews, only opening them after he swallows. “As sweet as I remember,” he says. “But not quiet as sweet as you.”

You giggle and blush. “How many girls have you used a line like that on?”

He hands his palm out, indicating he’d like another, which you give him. “Only you.”

“Then I’m honored,” you say before consuming another piece of fruit.

As you chew, you gaze at him with a mixture of desire and admiration. The way he’s opened to you, made himself vulnerable and connected with you, has made your heart swell. You want to know every tiny detail about him and share every little thing about yourself in return. Everything has been laid open on the table and your mind swirls with a million things you want to ask him, want to tell him.

Din notices your stare. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” you respond. “It’s not important.”

“Anything that’s on your mind is important to me.”

“I’m just curious about something.”

“Mhm…?”

You hesitate for a moment, understanding that the subject you’re thinking about may be a little _too_ personal. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but…I was wondering…Well, was I your first?”

It was a question you had pondered for a while, even before the two of you became lovers. Had Din lost his virginity before meeting you? He seemed so experienced the first time the two of you made love, knew too much to be a virgin. But you wonder who he would’ve been with. How and when.

“First what?” Whether he’s playing naive or genuinely clueless to what you’re asking, you don’t know.

“The first woman you’ve been with.”

“What like _sexually_?”

A laugh escapes your lips, though you didn’t mean for it to. “Yes, Din. Sexually.”

He blushes as he looks down at the grass. “I told you once before, cyar’ika, that I didn’t take a vow of abstinence.”

“So you _have_ slept with others?”

His face is bright red. “Are you going to interrogate me on the women I’ve slept with?”

“ _Women_?” You smile smugly, your eyebrows raised, intrigued by his answer.

He rolls his eyes and sighs before chuckling. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He pushes himself up, sitting with his arm resting on a bent knee. “What do you want to know, cyar’ika?”

“When was your first time?”

“Right before I took the Creed,” Din responds. “It, uh…wasn’t very memorable.”

“The first time is always memorable,” you respond. “Good or bad.”

“How would you classify sex in the sewers of Nevarro, trying to keep quiet as you fumble around in the dark so no one else will hear, the smell of sulfur in the air?”

You can’t help but let out a laugh, which causes you to cover your mouth. “Who was the lucky gal?”

“A girl from my tribe. We were the same age,” Din responds matter-of-factly. “Growing up in close quarters, we knew what sex was. We had urges. I guess curiosity finally got the best of us, and we figured what better time than before having to cover our faces.”

“What happened to her?”

“We grew apart after I joined the Guild,” he responds. “When the Imperials wiped out the Tribe, she was amongst the fallen.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Like I said, we had grown apart. I wasn’t attached to her. I never loved her if that’s what you’re going to ask next.”

“Did you love any of the women you were with?”

“No.”

“Were any of them even serious?”

“No.”

“None of them?”

“No,” Din replies adamantly. “It was purely carnal. Bounty hunting is a stressful job, and, well…”

“You have to get off somehow,” you finish, shrugging. “I get it.”

“When I told you that I feel things for you that I’d never felt for anyone before, I meant it. Only you.”

You smile.

“What about you?” he interrogates. “Have you ever loved anyone?”

“I thought I did once,” you respond, your smile fading. “I got mixed up with a pilot who joined the rebellion and never came back.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no, don’t be. He didn’t die in the war,” you add. “He’s just dead to me. He cheated with another pilot he met. Told me through a hologram. Couldn’t even give me the courtesy of telling me in person.”

“Well, then, I’m sorry he hurt you.”

You shrug. “It’s alright. I was young and stupid, and I should’ve seen it coming.”

“Doesn’t mean you deserved to be hurt.”

You change the subject. “So if all the time’s you’ve been with someone, minus the first, were after you took the Creed, have you ever, you know, tasted a woman before me?”

He lets out a breath as he turns red once more. “I, uh…no.”

“Bantha shit,” you playfully snap.

“What?”

“I don’t believe you.”

He laughs. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“You were too good,” you respond. “The first time, I mean. And every time after, too.”

“Well, it’s true,” he assures you. “I had no idea what I was doing then. I was worried I was doing it all wrong, that you didn’t like it.”

“Oh, I liked it.” You smile. “I always do,” you assure him. “I’ve never faked anything with you if that tells you anything.”

He’s silent for a few seconds, looking perplexed. “Is that…is that something women do?”

“Well, yeah. Sex isn’t always great. Sometimes you just have to fake it to get it over with.”

He’s quiet as if thinking. “I-What? Like when?”

“Well, this one time I was with this guy in a sewer in Nevarro…,” you jest.

“Ha-ha.”

You laugh. “The boys on Tatooine weren’t always the most well versed on sex. I once hooked up with a guy who, I’m fairly certain, didn’t know the difference between my belly button and clitoris. And that’s if he’s even heard the word ‘clitoris’ before. So if you’re worried about competition, don’t be.”

He chortles. “I’m not worried.” His voice has changed, sounding deeper, more seductive. “I think I could tell if you’re taking pleasure and not.”

“Oh yeah?” you question, as if tempting him. “Prove it.”

Din looks at you with desire in his eyes. He removes his gloves and tosses them to the side, landing near where his helmet is laying.

“Well, when you’re aroused, you get a delightfully pinkish glow about you. Especially here.” He lightly runs his fingers across your cheek. You tremble under his touch as his hand keeps moving. You throw your head back a little, letting him graze your throat. “And here.” He keeps going. “Oh, and let’s not forget here.” His hand runs down the exposed area on your chest, between your breasts. He slips into the opening of your top, finding the center of a breast. “And these harden.” Your nipple hardens as if by command as his finger toys with it. You gasp as you close your eyes.

You feel him remove his hand from beneath the fabric of our top. You open your eyes and watch as he continues down your covered abdomen. “The way you squirm for me.” He slips his finger into your waistband, sending a pleasurable ticklish sensation through you as he slowly slides side to side. You wiggle into his touch, hoping he’ll get the hint and move further south.

He stops for a moment, a sly smile appearing over his face as he looks at you before teasing you some more. “Do you want to know the biggest tell, cyar’ika? It’s probably my favorite.”

You nod. “Yes. Tell me.” You swallow then add, “Show me.”

His hand slips into your underwear. You open your legs for him, hoping to make it easier to access that special spot, but he glides past it. Instead, he finds your wetness, easily slipping two fingers inside of you, causing you to moan. You’re already wet, having been so turned on while pleasuring him amongst the grapevines.

“It’s how fucking wet you get for me,” he whispers. He cups you with his hand as he pumps his fingers.

“Oh, shit.” You clutch the grass beside you, nearly ripping the blades out of the ground as you throw your head back. You try to regain composure, quickly glancing around, seeing nothing beyond the flora and fauna. “What if someone sees?”

“Oh, now who’s the shy one?” Din questions, smiling devilishly. He swoops in and kisses your throat as he continues to move his digits in and out of you. He nuzzles your ear, then whispers, “Relax, cyar’ika, and I’ll make you cum so hard you’ll forget you were ever with anyone else.”

“Oh, Maker,” you gasp, feeling a ripple of pleasure course through you.

“And I’ll know it’s real because your pussy will clamp down on my fingers so hard, they’ll nearly fall off.”

“Fuck.”

He presses his thumb against your clit, the direct pressure causing you to gasp. He swirls it for several seconds, and you begin to tighten around him.

“Yes, Din. Make me cum.”

He pulls his thumb away from you. “Not yet, cyar’ika. I want you to beg for it.”

He kept the onslaught on your pussy up for several minutes, bringing you close to the edge before denying you your release. You’re trembling, the blood in your head throbbing so loud you can’t think, but you finally utter the words he wants to hear.

“Gedet’ye. _Please_. I can’t take it anymore.”

His thumb grazes against your clit in a rapid circular motion as his fingers plunge into you, grazing across a sensitive spot of your wall. Almost instantly, you come on his hand, squeezing his fingers as you scream. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and you swear you see stars, the release causing you to nearly pass out. As you finish, you lay on ground below you, panting.

Din slowly removes him fingers from you, gasping and squirming as he does so. “Was that to your satisfaction?”

“You-you tell me.” You laugh between breaths. 

Din lays on the grass beside you, propping himself on his elbow.

You stare up at the leaves of the tree above you as they slightly sway in the breeze, the blue sky above peeking through.

“Cyar’ika…” he says after a long silence.

“Hm?”

“Did that magic eyeball thing of yours ever tell you that you’d be this happy?”

You let out a loud laugh. “Magic eye-ball thing?” you question, propping yourself up. “No, I think the damn thing was broke. More often than not it would tell me that the future is clouded. Like, yeah, no shit.”

He laughs. “You’re not upset about the wedding, are you? Or, well, you know, lack of one?”

“What?” You almost laugh at the ridiculousness of the question. “No. I was the one who told you to come here. Do you think I would’ve done so if I was just going to be upset about it?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Why? Are you not happy?” You push yourself completely up, your mind immediately wondering if he’s trying to say something. If you made the wrong choice in coming here today.

He sits up beside you. “I am,” he assures you. He reaches out and lays his hand on yours. “I’ve never been happier. And it’s all because of you.”

You smile and hang your head, feeling silly for even thinking that he could be anything but happy when you’re currently filled with so much bliss. You bite your lip and look up at him. “You know, we could still get married today.”

He looks out at the sky, as if trying to estimate the time. “It would be late by the time we get back to Theed.”

“I don’t mean in Theed. I mean here.” He seems confused, causing you to add, “Any time, any day, right? Unless you had plans…”

“Well, no. I mean, sort of. It was nothing big.”

“Oh…,” you say, a little surprised. “What were you thinking?”

“There’s a grove not far outside the city, surrounded by waterfalls. It would be secluded, beautiful. I thought we could have a picnic and then, you know, get married.”

You gaze at him in awe, loving the idea. “That sounds lovely. I would very much like that.”

“But…?”

“But what?”

“There’s a but in there somewhere. I can feel it.”

You let out an awkward laugh. “No. I love it. It’s just…” You sigh. “You grew up here. And we came here in hopes of creating a better association with it. To recover old memories, to create new ones. What better memory to add than that of our wedding?”

“But your dress…”

“I thought you were willing to marry me naked?”

He chuckles. “I mean, yeah, I wouldn’t complain.”

“Then what does it matter if I have a beautiful dress or not?”

“You’re beautiful how you are. Dirty knees and all.” You blush as you giggle. He adds, “I just want you to have the wedding of your dreams. Usually that’s flowers, a white dress, all that froufrou shit.”

You nearly die of laughter. “Have you ever known me to like _froufrou_ shit?” you question. “The only thing I need to make it perfect is you.” You look up, searching your brain. “I’ll tell you what. Marry me today and take me to the grove. I’ll wear the dress then. We’ll have the picnic and we’ll spend the day celebrating our union.”

“If we celebrate how I want to, you won’t need to wear anything at all.”

“Oh Maker. Quit it,” you laugh.

He smirks. His eyes shine brilliantly as he gazes at you. Finally, he pushes himself off the ground and holds out his hand for you. You take it, and he helps you to your feet. Together, you walk closer down to the lake.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” he asks as you walk.

“I don’t know. Is there still time for me to run?”

“I can’t say I won’t chase you if you do, and I think you know how that will go.”

The two of you stop near the edge of the lake, creating a beautiful backdrop as the two of you prepare to exchange vows, whatever they may be. 

“Do you still have the rings?” you question as you turn to him.

“I told you I’d keep them safe. Don’t you trust me?” he says, reaching into the little pouch on his belt. You grin, watching as he pulls out the two silver rings that he’d shown you once before. He gently grabs you by the wrist, turns your hand over, and lays the bigger of the two into the palm of your right hand.

“Last chance. You could still run,” he says, taking your left hand and placing the ring on your finger, letting it sit just above the engagement ring he had given you just days before.

You smile as you take his hand. “Never.” You slip the ring on, then take both of his hands into yours.

“Repeat after me.”

You nod, understanding.

“Mhi solus tome,” he begins slowly. The words roll off his tongue with zero hesitation.

You recognize the first two words, “mhi solus” meaning “we are one.” Maybe you’re learning something after all. A smile appears across your face as you repeat, “Mhi solus tome…”

Din smiles in return as he squeezes your hand. “Mhi solus dar’tome…”

A tear that you didn’t even realize was there escapes your eye as you blink. “Mhi solus dar’tome…”

He lets go of you just long enough to wipe the tear from your cheek. “Mhi me’dinui an…”

Your smile widens as you try not to let any other tears fall. “Mhi me’dinui an…”

His eyes are glistening as he finishes. “Mhi ba'juri verde.”

You stare deeply into his eyes. “Mhi ba'juri verde.”

“And now, we seal it.”

You both move your heads toward one another, lips locking in a kiss that lasts so long you share one another’s breaths.

Finally, you pull away, both gauzing at one another, unsure what to say or do now.

“You didn’t just trick me into selling my soul, did you?” you finally ask.

Din laughs. “Only to me. But you have mine, so we’re even.”

“What do they mean? The words.”

“You mean you’re not fluent yet?” He grins. “We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors.”

“Well, then, I meant every word.”

Din lays his hand on your neck, his thumb touching your jawline. He pulls you in and brings his lip back to yours. You reach up and put your hands on the back of his head, feeling his hair under as you kiss him harder. You don’t want the moment to end, savoring every second that his lips touch yours. When you finally unlock lips, you don’t pull away and instead rest your forehead against his.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” you whisper. You curl a small lock of his hair around your finger.

“You say it so perfectly, riduur.”

“Riduur? That’s a new word.”

“It means spouse. Husband or, in your case, wife.”

 _Wife_. The word sends tingles all over your body. “Riduur…” you whisper back.

Your chest rises heavily with each breath as you find yourself yearning for him, wanting to connect as husband and wife. Despite being out in the open, away from the safety of the grapevines or the shade of the trees, you care far less than before about someone seeing you. You kiss him passionately and he responds with a kiss of equal passion. You don’t even have to tell him what you want.

Together, you lower your bodies to the grass, Din carefully laying you down on your back. He breaks from you lips and moves to remove your shoes and then your pants. You open your legs for him. He dives down and delicately kisses your thigh, but you pull him up to you.

“I just want you,” you tell him when he looks at you confused.

He kisses you, understanding and agreeing. You reach down and take him in your hand, lifting your hips to find the perfect angle as you guide him inside. He moans into your mouth as he pushes deeper.

“I want to look at you,” Din whispers as he pulls away.

“You have the rest of our lives to look at me, my love,” you respond, touching his face, feeling his facial hair scratch your palm. You move your hips in unison.

“You’re so pretty. So fucking beautiful. Fuck, how’d I get so lucky?”

“Roll over,” you command, stopping your movements. “Let me ride you. You can look all you want.”

Din pulls out of you and rolls to beside you. As he does so, he pushes his cape out of the way so he’s not laying on it. You immediately roll on top of him, sitting on him. He throws his cape around your waist, allowing at least some modesty, but you don’t care. It’s only you, him, and the world around you. He holds onto your hips, watching as you move.

After a minute, he sits up, wrapping his arms around your back, pulling you in tight. You wrap your arms around his neck as you rock back and forth.

“I need you,” he whispers.

“You have me.”

After a minute like this, he falls back, and you fall forward with him, still tangled together. You move your hips as his grip on the back of your head tightens, balling your hair in his fist as he usually does when he’s close. You feel him twitch inside of you.

You feel his hair, then run your palm down his cheek. “Look at me, riduur,” you say. “Look at me as you cum.”

“Oh, fucking Maker,” he ejects before crying out in ecstasy. He fills you up, and when you feel his muscles relax, his grip on you released, you come to a stop. You plant a small kiss on his forehead before resting your own against his shoulder, panting from the exertion.

“I love you,” you whisper into his ear as you lift yourself off him, causing him to groan one last time. “Forever.”

You roll to the side where his cape is laying, and he becomes conscious enough to wrap it around your waist once more, covering you. You smile a thank you as you find a comfy spot on his chest plate and lay your head there. You lay there for what seems like forever, watching as the sun begins to slip behind the mountains across the lake.

“We should go soon,” Din suggests after a while. “It’s getting late, and I’m sure you’re hungry.”

You’re tired and starving, sharing all your energy and what little you can manage to eat with the little parasite inside of you. Still, you say as you find his fingers, “I never want this day to end.” You examine the ring he’s wearing. It’s one of the most beautiful sights.

“Neither do I, cyar’ika. But we will always remember it. For now, we should go.”

You nod, agreeing with him.

After getting dressed, the two of you head back to the city, walking hand in hand while he holds onto his helmet in the other. You’re glad that he opted to stay helmetless, a mix of wanting to see his face and wanting him to experience the beauty of the city of his birth with naked eyes.

Suddenly, once you’re deep in the city, Din stops. You’re in a large open area, surrounded by buildings. You look up at him. He is motionless, completely still as if frozen as he stares forward.

“Din? What is it?” you question.

“This…This is where it happened,” he finally says, his voice emotionless.

Perplexed, you follow his gaze, seeing two angled metal doors that lead to what you assume is a cellar of sorts. You instantly know what he means: it’s where his parents hid him before meeting their demise, where he nearly met his own end, where the Mandalorian saved him and took him to a life he didn’t choose.

You step in front of him and place your hands on each side of his face, hoping to distract him before he can get trapped in terrible memories. “Look at me, Din,” you say firmly, starring at him. “Focus on me. Talk to me.”

He is silent for a moment before you feel his body relax beneath your touch. He reaches up with his free hand and removes you from his face. “It’s okay, riduur,” he says, gently pulling you off his face. “I’m alright. I can face this thanks to your light.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure. But I’d be even better if you’d kiss me.”

You reach down and grab him by the belt, pulling him into you. “Is that really what you want, Din Djarin?”

“You do that again and I’ll ask for more,” he warns.

You smile, then close your eyes before giving him a deep, open-mouthed kiss. You pull away, keeping your eyes closed for a moment before opening them and whispering, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, riduur. Let’s find some food and get back to the ship.”

\--

After grabbing a bite to eat, the two of you follow the path back to the ship, the sun gone and the moon rising in its place, stars dotting the sky. The two of you exchange light conversation before boarding Slave II, then make your way to the cockpit. As you sit down in one of the passenger’s seat, you realize how overwhelmingly tired you are, having been through such a long day.

“We have a long ride. You should sleep,” Din says as he presses the buttons to prepare the ship for takeoff.

“I’m not tired,” you say before yawning.

“And I’m really a Gungan,” Din jests.

“I knew it.” You sound groggier with each word.

“Go to the quarters. It’ll be more comfortable.”

“And leave you alone on our wedding night?”

“Sleep, riduur,” Din all but commands.

“I don’t want today to end.” It’s the last thing you remember saying.

\--

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you must’ve. You stir a little, finding that you’re in Din’s arms as he carries you, the warm night air caressing your face.

“Where are we?”

“Theed. Go back to sleep, cyar’ika.” His movements and warmth quickly lull you back to sleep.

The next time you rouse, you feel a warm, soft mattress under you. Someone’s body is near yours, an arm over your waist. You turn your head and see Din’s face, his eyes closed and mouth slightly open, appearing to be experiencing the deepest, most peaceful sleep.

Smiling, you lay your head back down and press your body against his. Somehow, you return to your slumber, knowing that no dream could ever compete with your reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not confirmed what or where Aq Vetina is, but the buildings in the flashback scenes remind me a lot of Naboo, so I created my own canon.


End file.
